The Weaver Crossed

The slime now weaves a web
And it handicaps my talents
And it proves their fucking condescension right
I can’t wipe away the grime today, Disabled
Why don’t they realize the dirt is separate from the skin?
The stains aren’t on my soul,
it’s just evolution working its irony
It’s just… something they’ll never know
that must be why they’re all experts
Fucking innocent eyes that only see indiscretion
They don’t understand motivation
or dedication, Or…
indiscriminant abuse
The effect of abandonment, and spiritual abduction

Am I still a disgrace to what you pretend?
You cherish your fucking alcoholic dysfunction,
but its product is pathetic, I’m a shame, Your exposition
You wait till your goddamn judgment drains my confidence,
Talk to me, Help me, Overcompensate,
now that my lack of social competence is on your hands
“Why won’t you talk? Just let me help”
I never hear a word till I've done something...
wrong, stupid, weird, irresponsible
In the eyes of your prissy fucking disposition
I’ve made such a mistake,
Yet I’m the only one who has what I need,
except for the escape from this… Ridiculous conception
Blood is not family