They make fun of me.
Things I do and say.
Is this their way
Of killing those who are unworthy?
Who doesn't deserve to be happy?
Those of us who stray
From “normal”, live with an array
Of colors strapped to their every day?
I cry out in anger:
“Make fun of me, go ahead,
To the point where I never
Believe in myself. I'll tread
In blood, swim in tears, hide in darkness
So nobody will witness my hatred.
Don't worry about your happiness;
With me gone,
You'll be happy.
Don't worry about
Getting blood on your hands;
Mine are already stained
So that yours won't have to be.”
I never try to trouble people.
Negativity is not my friend.
Should you wish to see my end,
I would rather grant your wish than cause you trouble.
I am sorry if I wasted your time.