The pressure keeps building.
And although I've never failed them,
they keep going and going,
Pressuring me until I'm at wits' end.

Ashamed, rejected, revoked, repressed,
like a whale distinct from the others
by its own, unique tone,
I'm forced to wander alone
in this vast, ocean of people cold as stone.

Indeed, I'm at my wits' end
The pent up emotions of which I cannot contain
are all about to burst, but still, I refrain
because who likes to be pressured
under certain circumstances so mundane?
So mundane, that in fact they can never, EVER
Weigh as much as I can contain.

I'm a bomb. And indeed, I'm about to blow up
the fuse within me is already lit up
in a minute or so, the culprits who had set me up
Will be blown away by my sudden rage.
But if only they had the courage to douse me
with their water of forgiveness,
then perhaps in a few seconds or less,
My fuse would cease in its track.

Still, they were careless, careless in my handling
It seems my fuse will still keep on going
Once I explode, they will be loathing.

The pressure keeps building.
And although I've never failed them...

...they WILL keep on going and going.