Counterclockwise

I sit thinking,

Not laughing or smiling, just merely blinking.

I wonder why,

Everything I do winds up making me cry.

Why must I be in terrible pain?

Why on every piece of clothing I own, there’s a tear stain?

Why must everyone want me torn?

I’m supposedly not good enough unless I conform.

Why do people think I’m retarded?

Why must people be so cold-hearted?

Am I going to shrivel up inside?

Must I be like this ‘till the day I die?

Am I really as stupid as people think?

Why must the society I live in stink?

How come I’m not allowed to fix what I despise?

I wonder…..can I turn the clock counterclockwise?