I was planning on posting this when I got well, hence explaining why the author notes you soon shall read are in past tense, but I'm feeling pissy at the moment and need to share it with the world. Anyway, onto the past tense author notes! This was written when I was sick . . . physically since I had missed about three months worth of school and mentally since I was getting frustrated when it came to pretty much everyone and everything around me. Let's just say I was an angry child eating homemade frosting and listening to Damien Rice's gorgeous song "Volcano" when writing this. Anyway . . . please read and review the unhappiness for the heavens shall praise you if you do.
New Note: Thanks to Shade2 I realized that there was a pointless spelling error in this poem most likely caused by my spell check and it has now been fixed. Thank you and that is all.

Isn't anyone out there listening to me?
Maybe I'm screaming too loud in my mind,
Because you're all sounding exactly the same.
And really I'm starting to wonder,
Where is it that you end and where do I begin?
That S if for you to shut up.

You're starting to accuse me and I hate it,
What the hell do you know about it?
Spout those lies like they're your fountains of life,
It's got to be all that you have to rely on,
'Cause here I am, and you don't seem troubled at all.
My I is for your false impression.

I'm confined to this place, this room -
So just why haven't you shackled me down yet?
Not that it'll make a bloody difference,
Because there's nothing here, there's no life.
Am I ever going to get out of here?
C is for this gilded cage.

It's all becoming one tangled mess.
And no one seems to want to understand
The feeling that's feeding off of everything that's me.
But if no one else out there seems to get it,
Then how do you all expect me to?
And the K is for my kaleidoscopic pain.