Peasants

I've distanced myself again.
Awkward around my friends.
I can't be what she needs.
I rejoice as I bleed.

I don't need their shelter,
I reject their lies.
Forced to prod and dig,
and it's killing me inside.
It's not about forgetting,
Or learning to cope.
It's about control,
and salvaging some hope.

I sit all alone.
Trying to dissect myself.
Trying to sort out,
just who I am.

Too many hours spent
trying to be understood.
Explain in vain,
They think that they're in sync with me.
If they only knew,
Just what I was thinking,
They'd be too scared.
Too scared to fucking sleep.

Zero.