I am constantly perceived by the emotions on my sleeve and even though I feel my actions are misconceived I can’t change it because this material refuse to speak.. So here I stand caught in a stereotype fighting off judgement till I can’t breathe, But I swear I’m a “nice guy” and I’ve tried to make lemonade out of the sourness of life but with an absence of sugar my face stays frozen in a expression thats bitter sweet.. I always feel my happiness is an inch away from my finger tips so I continue stretching, thinking anyday I’ll reach what I need to make me complete.. As I remember everyday is a precious present— a giftyou should gadly recieve as each sunrise guides in my quest for knowledge through natural lessons… I look towards the sky and pay homage loving that I’m a serious soul thinking always smiling is a clowns gesture.. To all of you- No, I’m not a distant, my soul is happy; the anger on my sleeve is used for protection from the dick faces and assholes giving me a soft off, putting a damper on my souls erection.. Fuck your perceptions..