Dependent on who?
Dependent on you.
What you ask me too,
I will most likely do.
Depending on trust.
Once again fussed.
I am still bad at it,
Still being mad at it.
Because I don't get it.
From people or reason.
And if it's fair,
It feels like treason.
People don't trust me.
Especially my peers.
It doesn't bring me to tears,
But it is one of my fears.
That I will never hangout.
And without much doubt,
Be in relationship.
Because it's not what I am about.
Or it is really,
But most people would not appeal to me.
Not even have a feel to me.
Only if they feel bad,
Would they ever want to steal to me.
I think I get it.
I still get offended.
When people insult me,
I have no need to be salty,
Because I have already told myself,
What I could say to someone else.
Call me depressed,
But I'm just trying,
Trying to understand,
Why stuff comes round,
Just like a rubber band,
Choking on sand,
Some times it's rough,
And it may make me tough,
But that won't help me enough.
All these problems,
Trust is a real bust,
It always is in rust.
For anyone I friend,
I don't have the must.