Circus

My emotions seem to be a joke,
Something that you want to hear but laugh at afterwards when you find out the problem
I’m tired of being your court jester,
Tired of trying to explain to you that your not the only one who needs love,
Who needs help.
You say you’ll be there to listen to me and my stories,
But when I confide in you, you tell me that I’m over reacting
That I just work myself up
That there’s something wrong,
Why am i made wrong,
But for you the whole world is wrong?
Why can’t anyone else have worse problems than you?
I try so many times to describe what it’s like
So you won’t sit their staring at the kid who seems to be more messed up than you
The one who needs medication.

But see, everyone else’s problems can be fixed with compassion
A good friend, a good shrink, a good slap.
But mine aren’t normal, mine need unnatural solutions,
The kind that don’t help, that don’t hurt, don’t let you feel anything.
I'd become the kind of person you made fun of,
The kind no one goes near, and how would that help me?
I’d be a vegetiable, no way to know what my real feelings are
Not that I'd want to anymore
It’ll be easier if you'd just stop belittling my problems,
As if they were a circus display