Shaken

Easy; in fact too easy, to shake it off
My condition is but one you scoff
When you were the one entreating me to sound off
Now that I did put forth,
You merely push me off.



Superficiality your speciality
Hypocrisy your art of perfection



Miserable life continuing in anguish,
Made all possible by your uncaring fetish.
Told me you bothered,
But nothing is furthered.



Out to you.
Out.
Out.
Wait.
I am not allowed.