I feel

that I have become a burden.

I am a puzzle piece that no longer fits.

A black sheep in the mix of the static.

I'm forced to tip toe around silently;

and you won't hear me.

Your ears have closed.

Your eyes look away.

You shudder at a touch.

I am foreign to you.

You are foreign to me.

The disconnect is ugly; I fear it.

But I can only be me. And you're only being you.

This pain is growing me from the inside;

and who am I to accept the good from God

and not the bad?

And it's not my fault.

it's not my fault.

it's not my fault.

But it does nearly make me sick.