Cacti & Paper Airplanes

Yellow

I am sick of the yellow

I don't want more lemons

Or lemonade

There is no sugar

There is no cream

It could be worse

I could eat fake cheese

I could have been cooking at ten

I could have been there

Watching my grandfather

Wail on your brother

My grandmother obsess

Over the phone

In her manic episodes

I am sick of the yellow

The lemonade makes me puke

I hold a sign

That says

Happy am I

But I am not

It could be worse

I could have watched

My mother die

And my family crumble

Slowly around me

As I desperately 

Drop everything 

In the hopes that

They'll pull through for me

I am sick of the yellow

I resent the glass pitcher

I watch it

With distaste

Unable to let 

My glass run dry

I had so much promise

I loved reading

I could do anything

But you tore the joy from me

You told me who I had to be

You told me how I had to be

And you gave me the yellow

Drink up.

You should do art.

But I can't make money.

You are so good.

But I am not good enough to live on it.

You should make me something.

But I make the art for me.

Your art is too dark.

But it has meaning.

Well, I let you take this class.

I am sick of the yellow.

My art is never good enough.

Give it away

And give up

Take the lemonade

Drink up.

You should do science.

But you told me that I was bad at math.

You should let them pay for your PhD.

But I think I want to do medicine and research.

You're just saying that because you're jealous.

But my uncle is dying and healthcare is neat.

Well, they'd eat you alive anyways.

Whatever, I guess you're right.

I guess if you move home you can try.

I am sick of the yellow.

My choices are never good enough.

Why bother choosing

When your ideas are wrong?

Just take the lemonade

And walk away 

With a smile

What's wrong with you?

Well, no wonder nobody likes you.

Just be happier.

Think happy thoughts.

Finally you understand jobs are work.

Social media and rap rots your brain.

Just let it go.

I am sick of the yellow.

I am sick of burnout.

I am sick of endo pain.

I am sick of gaslighting.

By loved ones.

By healthcare.

I am sick of the yellow-bellied,

audacious cis men.

Who bully me into submission.

Who harass me.

As my uncle was being buried.

While I shop for groceries.

As if I am a sack of meat.

I am sick of the yellow.

It is not getting better.

I am alone.

I have no dates.

I have no friends.

I am not good enough for school.

Although it is about funding.

I do not feel good enough.

For every time I came for comfort,

You only gave me lemons.

And I had to make lemonade.

I am sick of the yellow.

I want to cut the lemon tree

There is no sugar

Only salt

Which is rubbed

Into my wounds

I am sick of the yellow

How dare you tell me

That I have not yet been through enough

As you laugh

As you leave for home

As I cry

Call me jaded

Call me weak

Call me a fool

Let me be clear---

You do not know how much scarring I bear

To put on a presentable smile

Nor how much violence

It takes to be this gentle

When you lay at night

When you sit at day

Your life absolutely filled

With nothing but lemons

And I am puking up yellow.