Sensitivity isn't always a bag of roses
It isn't always a bag of trash
Like all things
The universal truth is somewhere in the middle
Caught in the push and pull
Speeding by, stars a blur
Ground moving obscenely slow
I could get out and push
I don't know the entire situation
And so I sit, strapped in
Illusion moving like a rocket
Paralyzed by too much information
I've given up my agency
Led around by a leash attached
A noose around my spirit
I could jump but then
I'd never see if I was right
