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.