It Is What It’s Not

It’s all sweetness and light,
But the saccharin is cancerous.
The chapel bells ring,
But the cacophonous tune is deafening.
The skies are blue,
But it’s the color of choleric melancholy.
A breeze is blowing,
But its tepid, putrid wisps won’t soothe.
I can smell the rats,
But I cannot follow their tails.

Who am I to be
When everything I am–
How I reverberate,
Why I resonate–
Is where I cannot be,
Is what I am not permitted to be?