forced joy bleeds me numb
and disturbed reflexive expressions make me wonder
if I have the right to paint my corner grey
its not my fault we all take up some sort of space
and you're not strong enough to avoid my swirling vortex
so don't look at me like I spat in your strawberry parfait
when I left mine to melt 'cause of my sedentary ways
leave my presence if I'm not happy enough for you
I'm not begging for your toxic help- and I'm not always this way
just this section of the planet's revolution
leaves sand in my gears and grinds a paste lightning could strike to glass
so leave me be- forced joy bleeds me numb
and I have the right to process my own demise