We Simply Choose To Grieve

It’s a glitch and it’s an itch One that can’t be reached A calming light, without a switch Something one can’t teach Nothing short of spit in the face To someone who is crippled Across the line and out of place To tell one how they feel But those who bear The brightest bulbs Are quick to swear That we control How we feel and how we deal What we see and how perceived They clearly state, we are not ill We simply choose to grieve