Insensitivity Poem by Singer Joy

Sweet… very sweet.
Sickly, in fact, is what one could call her.
Freakish and foolish and funny in every way.
(why would I say something like that? Why would
She listen to me?)

Bitter… too, too bitter.
Wretched, in fact; that’s what she called me.
Dire and dreary and drained…
(why would that get to me? Why would
I listen to her)

Insensitive…
I believed her,
Because she was right.
Drained and depressed and damn
Insensitive…