Poetic Disturbances.

Dear Intellectual.

I am a person with many imperfections
I know everything i do has a purpose but not a single soul seems to believe that.
Either Im wrong , selfish , or absurd
But not any one can understand the train of thought that rolls through out my head
I always do this.
Do that
But is it always right?
That is when judgement kicks in
I can say i will do this
But right when i present my idea to someone else.
With a "weaker"mind.
A distorted soul.
A distorted breathing thing you call
Another "human being"
They just turn me down
I must ask myself why?
Why even open my lips to say something
When nobody ever understands.
I waste my breath for disappointment
Each and every time .
But i surely am tired .
You must be too
Of course you are
I know you can relate

Yes you

Why else would you end up reading this?

.......Because you are that person