What is a life?
A means of neurotic dishevelment?
Perhaps a mass of confusion,
only existing for entanglement of purposeless emotion?
What is the emotion?
A hard-ache of lust and care,
with consequences for experience?
Where was I…?
Where was I when it all changed?
When the exuberant care of peers was
given, yet not expected?
Now its expected.
Why? Why? Why?
Why this life…?
Life of disgust and rejection?
Well, fitting in is irrelevant.