I've lived by your abrasive,
Evasive maneuvers that quell
Your darkened spirits and hated emotions.
You always think of me as a task
To finish or a goal
To accomplish. Like I am that hard to understand.
Like you are so novel to
Understand what I am.
The most you know about people like me
Is nothing but magazines on
S.A.D. and depression.
Yeah the summer disappoints me,
And the winter chills me with thrills.
But who are you to try to
Take it all away from me.
You say you want to help me,
To suppress my growing talents.
When you told me I had nothing to
Earn a living with, I believed you.
Sadly I saw what you said
To be truth.
I was the wrong one here,
My writings will get me farther
Than your own backyard.
You try to subdue such a demon as I
With maniacal stories of full moon queries
That no one
Ever listened to.
When the belly of the beast has
Become full of disgust,
I suggest it to be you
Who comes looking for me,
Impressed with the way I've come thus far in life,
Whereas you thought
I'd be dead before I hit 25,
That becoming my goal,
I know I shall be a greater monument
Than mount rushmore.
I hope you suffer, because,
You just deserve it.