No one asked me; I’ll pretend otherwise.

I think we invest too much energy
into convincing ourselves that the world
has some sort of vendetta against us.
As if the age of acne and braces
isn’t enough.

Some clarification:

Sometimes I sit on the floor of my room
and the silence makes me feel anxious
and I have someone’s god in my ear to
remind me that, yes, I am just a speck.

And, borne of the silence, are my choices.
Exist in what my subjectivity
tells me is a meaningless romp in space,
or pull an enemy out of a hat
and fight a crusade.

Perhaps you need a moral spelled out for
you.