I sit in silence
My punishment for transgressions unknown
Ignorance its companion
And so the spaces next to me feel cold

Academics hold no import now
As I find I'd rather be asleep
In slumber there is oblivion
Where nothing is heard, felt, or seen

All that in remains in focus
Is my own inadequacy
Of which if spoken gives way
To the rolling of eyes and blasphemies

I speak irrationally
And consequently so I write
But I know no other state of mind
So with my thoughts, be gentle, speak kind

Apologies are spoken more oft than condemnations
And that, I suppose, may not be a fault
But, for others I will myself be better
That I might deserve at all