Surrounded... by female suburbia

Looking for the other words,
the ones profound, deep and vague
to cover the stinging truths.

I've realized lately that truth is relative,
very much spirited
by the reality we can actually handle -
the essences our fragility will bear.

I feel sad for the inability to conform,
and disgusted that I should feel so.

I hate that power the envelopes me,
that I've afforded to such people,
who have no respect or regard
for anything other than themselves.

I am not a fish out of water.
I am a fish with legs
who wishes never to go back.

Eight Minutes

Eight minutes to just quickly say
everything that's running circles in my head

I'm not exactly excited about wedding after wedding
I don't see fulfillment in reaching the same goals
I don't want to follow just to be in touch
But I still miss them all, all the same

I hate that I'm an angry person
I hate that what I got from him was that
This boiled and concentrated pit of black
that only explodes in the confines of home

I'm frustrated with not having the things I want
and knowing that some of them are things I actually need
I look around and grow crazy with frustration
and yet can't lift a thumb in movement

I hate being lazy
I hate being cash-strapped
I hate being a different version of me

My mind wants to run back almost 15 years
My body ran forward almost 20
I do not see me in me

My eight minutes are up