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Poetry / Not Right Now
Where the hell do you get off?
Calling me crazy, insane, mad…
Where do you get the hell off?
How did you get to this plateau in my life?
How’d you gain this magical right?
The ability to call me foolish and crazy?
This isn’t supposed to be yours;
And somehow you made it so.
You grabbed a piece of my soul when I wasn’t looking.
Then you replaced this piece with a shard of your heart.
And now I ache because you call me a lunatic.
I’d support you in your endeavors…
But we’re just supposed to be friends…
This shouldn’t be more; not much more.
Where do you get off…
Why don’t you get off…
Why do you even care?
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