There is always a fear in being around happy people.
The ones who don't need distractions to live
or see beauty in the actual forms in front of them.
It's a worry,
that I am using you,
my contented friends,
to see if I can succumb
my mind into you.
Because when I'm with you I am irreparably
one giant distraction,
not grace,
and not my should be isolation.
I am not comfortable here
because I don't see these things
as roses.
But I can't keep crying all the time.

I distrust the public,
I don't believe in what you do.

Any of you.