I’m hesitant, of my own skill’s ideals
My mother’s precedent drowns my future in eels
Tugged on a leash, and trapped inside my feels, man
My emotions vomit out, into a blender-esque trash can
I choose what to feel, in some respect
When you ask what is real? I give my neurons a check.
But I’m wistful, which gives my fears a check mate
I wish this poison could get my sadness to negate
Silly me, I’m still dripping with sodium acetate
I can’t keep them in,
I got Vinegar smiles, and unlimited time
To brandish clashed opinions, with venomous eyes
I’m ransacked and pitiful,
I’ve been man-slapped and a sick product of ritual
Death defying in an ants eyes, rain pours upon me like spicy french fries
Why am I considered quality
Why am I considered good
Do I really evoke talent and potential that could?
Perhaps I’m a rapist of my own happiness
As a dull sickle clips through a dozen scabbed bandages
If only I could keep my save game from yesterday
I could learn from my failures and savor the bouquets
But I’m just here, ratchet strapped to tomorrow
Fresh out of satisfaction to borrow
Fuck metaphors and fuck you. I hate myself and you should too.
