The voices of the world tell me otherwise but they aren’t there to listen they are there to judge they are impatient unless you pay a fee friends are there to get what they receive...no blame it is just the way it is...I held a dying baby and I tried to use it to prove me having life, only cause you made me, I experienced hate because of that...that child wasn’t mine, i understand that and I don’t know who I was, if only I could put words together correctly enough to evoke this feeling I am feeling so you can feel the stab but I am insignificant and it makes me not care I would rather try to figure out this cruel emotion that you make me feel
what mechanism have we built together that makes me feel immortal I have beliefs that should separate me from you
they are weak and dying and I keep them that way in light of who I am.
My arms are crossed