Disregarding all of  your audacity

your throws of brutality

hardening me where I cannot see

and people ask,”why I’m insane?”

it fumbles me why they ask

I don’t cry anymore

instead hardened to the task

like a whore

how do I know

if your primed for conversation?

how do I know

if you are in the season

should I even dare

or ,put out a foray as if  to care

when you first look

you tend to look at me with much disdain

glazing your eyes at me 

puts me through so much pain

non-chalantly 

casual throws of disgust

I seek another thrust

of imagination ,fancy,and knowledge

that you don’t know  -B