What can I even say?
It’s never me, it’s always someone else.
Her destiny was greater than mine,
But you can’t be selfish can you?
That’s simply not ok, in this day and age.
But it is ok to be accosted for no cost?
To be used with no consent?
That’s ok but it’s not to be continuously let down and never picked up?
I don’t want to hear whatever illusion of truth you think you know,
The blunt truth is that I am insurmountable to the pedestal that has been placed, unbeknownst to me, right in front of me.
So, respectively, I don't want to hear it.
Art is subjective and I will choose to subject it with my anger and my rage,
Because it’s always him, always her, never me.
The truth is that it wasn't good enough. That I’m not enough.
And you want to argue with me on that, but my mind is just stuck in its own ways.
Never we, always them,
Never me, always her.
Choose me, pick me,
I would say if I could,
I would beg if it was accepted.
The primal urge that rips through my soul whenever this happens to me again.
It’s too much to bear alone.
You have structure, you have sad, you have realization, you have joy.
Good for you, Great for you.
But let me break something to you sweetie, some of us real humans don’t feel joy.
Sometimes we can’t, sometimes it’s stuck.
Like a valve that’s pressure is too high.
But I have my voice too,
Sometimes it’s too loud, too raw,
Sometimes it’s too quiet yet still so raw.
So is this loud?
Is this destiny loud?
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 3:33 PM UTC
What can I even say?
It’s never me, it’s always someone else.
Her destiny was greater than mine,
But you can’t be selfish can you?
That’s simply not ok, in this day and age.
But it is ok to be accosted for no cost?
To be used with no consent?
That’s ok but it’s not to be continuously let down and never picked up?
I don’t want to hear whatever illusion of truth you think you know,
The blunt truth is that I am insurmountable to the pedestal that has been placed, unbeknownst to me, right in front of me.
So, respectively, I don't want to hear it.
Art is subjective and I will choose to subject it with my anger and my rage,
Because it’s always him, always her, never me.
The truth is that it wasn't good enough. That I’m not enough.
And you want to argue with me on that, but my mind is just stuck in its own ways.
Never we, always them,
Never me, always her.
Choose me, pick me,
I would say if I could,
I would beg if it was accepted.
The primal urge that rips through my soul whenever this happens to me again.
It’s too much to bear alone.
You have structure, you have sad, you have realization, you have joy.
Good for you, Great for you.
But let me break something to you sweetie, some of us real humans don’t feel joy.
Sometimes we can’t, sometimes it’s stuck.
Like a valve that’s pressure is too high.
But I have my voice too,
Sometimes it’s too loud, too raw,
Sometimes it’s too quiet yet still so raw.
So is this loud?
Is this destiny loud?
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