What never sleeps
And never rests,
Always stirs
And is a pest?
It gives us pills,
And blades to use.
Then it kills,
But no one cares.
It taunts and teases,
Roaming like a King.
Flaunts as it pleases
Like the worst Queen.
It can never die,
Physically nor emotionally,
Yet it makes half of us cry,
And half of us hurt.
Parts of it are shining, gleaming, and mean.
The others hide inside themselves.
But some are stuck in limbo,
Never how they seem.
Have you figured it out yet?
Do you know the answer?
Or do you need the answer you cannot get?
The horrid thing is Society.
But, please, riddle me this.
What happens to me
When I don't give a piss?
What happens Society?
Riddle me this, Society.
What if I decide to be queer,
And I don't care if you shun me;
I decide I don't need any of you near?
What happens when "Riddle Me This"
Becomes "Riddle You That"?
What happens when I lke being different,
And all of Society's pressures go splat?
