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Not my fault.
Folder:
Stuff that could be worse. Cognizant?
I'm talking aren't I?
Besides, you're the one
Who's been cold-cocked by oppressors.
Don't call me out of my hiding
To ridicule me while you cry about your troubles.
I'm content to sit silently and wrestle my problems into submission
It's you who cries about your situation and reproaches others for theirs.
Again, don't harrass me for my quiet nature.
I don't complain about your 200 decibel voice.
Nor do I whine about the shit you spew when talking.
I stew. Healthy or not, it's what I do and it works.
You can't handle modesty.
That's not my fault.
