Busybodies

Why would we be interested, they say
Why, indeed, should they be
In the goings on of my life
In what I do, who I see

But interested they are, no doubt
Very apparently
With an unhealthy dose of entitlement,
Veiled in fake concern and sincerity

And it’s not because of concern, as they claim
But to appease their morbid curiosity
And then to pass judgement,
Bigotedly

Because their rigid compass
of ‘morality’
Is not flexible;
It doesn't let them see

That right and wrong
Is illusory
That their judgement is a reflection of them
Not me

So no, you don’t have the right
To question me
I am not answerable to people
Filled with spite and superficiality

I got no place for toxins in my life
No negativity
So unless you truly care, which I highly doubt
Hold your tongue, keep your nose out, and blessed be