My Own Personal Hell

vii.

They’re whispering like they always do.

Sometimes I wish they’d let me in

So I could be part of all their inside jokes,

Rather than letting me cast a shadow over them.

I hate the minority like I hate you;

I don’t.

I just say I do because I misunderstand

And no one’s willing to explain it to me.

I’ll hold my head high though,

Make you all cower

While I envy you.