I Hate

I hate it when I see through the BS, but can’t speak my mind Or see someone poked at, forgotten, behind I hate being Pressured, pushed, but mostly rushed Invaded, startled, tickled or touched Falsely accused and misunderstood Taken all wrong, when intentions were good Or when Confusion is stout. I see no way out Ashamed, overwhelmed, I’m full of self doubt Small talk is pressing, chatter, guessing Neither one cares, what the other’s confessing Just robotic words, it’s for the birds Just meaningless curd, that goes unheard I hate Being restricted, clipping my wings Fearful of judgment, afraid to sing Picking up vibes that aren’t my own Walking on eggshells in another’s home Being down on my knees, in hopes to please But still, I’m scorned. Like no one sees Falling short, task or sport Despite efforts, could not contort But mostly I hate Being unhappy, when times are great The passing of moments and words “too late” Feeling regret, like a waste of space Impulsively talking, in a steady pace The lingering thoughts of what was said The billion stories that must be read The social encounters, I fret and dread The nightmares that play, inside my head I try to feel happy, but depressed, instead I paint on a smile, but meant what I said