You've made it clear that whenever I speak to you
I can't touch you.
You've made it clear that when I try
There's no will.
So I stop with emotion that's still present.
I stop because my waste you have so named, has no sewer.
And I cant. Because I'm clogged.
My feelings have reached overcapacity and I don't entirely know where to drain.
Or if I even should have a sewage for this supposed waste.
So I lay here in floods of my pain
Not knowing if you'll merely recognize them
As I go mentally insane.
So don't tell me I'm special
Because if I was important you wouldn't let me rot
Like a half eaten Apple
You decided to pursue
Like the yoga you picked up but
Only for a short period of time
Like that thing you decided to do but not really.