Why should I keep on trying
When I feel like dying
Trying, dying
Trying desperately to like my job
Why couldn't I just be born as a rich snob
My life would be easier if people
Stopped asking me stupid questions
The lane is closed bitch
I clock and out
And all I do is
Go home and sleep
And I can't say how I really feel
To anyone because they'll judge me
My therapist isn't even a real therapist
She talks about this spiritual mumbo-jumbo
That I can't comprehend
She calls me a girl
Even when I tell her not too
I'm not a girl
Because I'm queer
I'm over it
I'm over it
Fuck all of it
I am tired of everything
And everyone
Fuck these customers
Fuck these men
Who I can't seem to date
Fuck my feelings
YOU ARE READING
A Journey Through My Soul
PoetryThis is a collection of short poems I wrote. Please be aware that some contain sexual content, and as well as descriptions of depression that might trigger some people .
