Sanity Cyst

Cycling circle saying saneless sorrow.
For me, a shameful morrow tomorrow.
Sunshine, for a time, may I borrow?
I know why you glare at me.

Politely perusing pale skin,
Knowing well it should be darker then.
Do I please my fallen kin?
I know not if they watch me.

Blatantly blinded by benign bigotry.
And so I wait beneath no tree,
For its branches would fall upon me.
I know not why I live.

Yet, I strive through the mist.
I survive with swollen cysts.
They will break free,
Along with me.