Ashamed now I'm accused of being one of them
like tonight, I suggest a new idea
to be shouted down by one
known as my brother,
again.

So I try to express my differences
and I am referred to as tripe,
I find my words are not exquisite enough,
the literature I read is not original,
I am ashamed.

Now after tears at the house of a relative,
induced by family so quick to silence me,
silencing a new direction
that they do not know,
I just want to escape,
run away.

And what made you such a fucking saint anyway?
I don't want to namedrop you,
but on my worst night of the year
I come home to words that hammer home
harder than actions ever could
and compact my mind
into a constricted cube,
it seems as though everyone
wants me dead.

Maybe I'm just afraid of criticism.
But that I doubt, after years of it.
Nobody loves you, I hope,
for you are so heavy
in bringing down free thought.

Think about it.