It seems like people don’t love you.
Not when you’re at your lowest.
They want your gold,
when they didn’t sift through the dirt to get it.
They want your riches,
when they weren’t surviving off ramen,
Unlike you who did.

It seems people only love the pretty in you.
They stay for your sunset, leave at night.
They stay for your joy, leave when you’re angry.
They stay for dinner, but don’t help clean.

It seems like people,
Well it seems people only like people.
Think,
Are you a person when your angry?
No, you’re seen as a lunatic.
Are you a person when you’re depressed?
No, you’re just a depressed emo.
Hey remember in the early 2000’s,
When we used to make fun of them?
Now look, that’s all there is.

Anyways,
My point is people only see you as people,
when you assimilate into the crowd.
No look into my eyes, or rather my ink.

I see you as a person, you’re you.
You’re not, ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ,
You’re not,
One, Two, Three, Four, or even Five
You’re you.
Not some raging lunatic, nor a depressed emo.
Just you, and that’s enough for me.
Sorry, I got to go.
I love y’all though, even if I don’t personally know you.


© tmrf