Pen - pen: Disarm my Pain

FOR THOSE WHO ASK

We can't deny the fact that someone should set their standards to meet their own satisfaction on something,
And it only judges the thing or someone whom you like to be satisfied with,

We don't have to prove something from ourselves,
We don't have to brag for our achievements,
But who the hell am I to teach you something,
For I personally didn't like to dip on someone's sauce,
Am I too insecure?,
Or I am confused with my words,
And left me unsure?,

Anxiety kills me at night,
And daydream fixed me continously,
Staying on my bed isn't a good idea,
For it only bothers me,

I am afraid of crowds,
I am an anti-social,
I didn't like to raise my hand to answer,
Somebody's opinionated questions,
I prefer not to be "not too rational",
But what else can I do,
If they look at from head to toe,
And judge my physical,

Garbage standards of the society,
I can't meet the spices to be "in" their priority,
For being part of the lower class humans didn't treated equally,
Am I still living in the 21st century?

For those who ask,
I remember that I am not asking for questions,
I am asking for answers,
Confusion in my mind bothers the untroubled thoughts,
And gathers unanswered questions that makes me feel uneasy,
Unsafe, unimportant, unmoved,
Under this words there is an answer that is embedded by the pages,
I slowly picked up the thorns from the blooming roses,
And get lured by my own illusions,
for my words only tells you why am I so sad,
Why am I so angry,
Why I feel too unsteady,
Is it natural? Or is it insanity,

Too many words that ends with the letter "Y",
Too many answers that asks me "why?",
I am not lonely,
Don't make me feel so filthy,
This isn't a journal nor a Diary,
This is a truth,
Half meant joke,
That you didn't want to laugh at.