It seems like it’s never worth it.
To fight against the weight of their ignorance.
Their uncaring, unhearing, uncomprehending.
All the blood of your dreams, the afterbirth of your tears,
the screaming of your broken thoughts, gets tossed aside.
You get Jesussplained. You get told to suck it up.
You get told what you’re REALLY feeling.
You get assholes who don’t want their mellow harshened,
with your sorrow and pain and fear.
So you just smile and joke and laugh, and sing for your supper.
Social lubricant, the phony smile.
But all that bad shit is still there, still eats at you,
still the demons hound you. Still the dreams go blank.
And you’ve so successfully buried your feelings,
you feel nothing at all, not even the hate or the rage.
You become even phonier and emptier and deader.
No matter what, you end up alone with death.