I am demoralized by striking realities,
Like how I throw fits as an adolescent would,
As though I never really outgrew angst,
Or otherwise I’m steadily degenerating.
It both infuriates and eludes me to think
How you possess superlative power over me
Because of something as trivial as anatomy—
Such a shame they didn’t teach that in school.
You dangle my hopes on the periphery
Of my sanity, waiting to see what I’ll do;
At least that’s how I perceive these acts of outreach—
The same ones I pray for every day.
All this jeremiad really serves to do
Is demonstrate my teetering state-of-mind,
For each time I search for a face in the mirror
I only see the world, jeering at my disillusionment.