i would walk myself to the dump because no one picks me up
these legs are all i have, along with these poems
none of these things, none of them, I can truly own
because who wants to ride around with trash? just my luck

that from a young age, i was treated so poorly
thanks, family, you really did good things for me
yeah, yeah, i know, you wish you could take it back
but you've created the monster who's afraid to lack

the right words in a conversation, i trail off quite easily
while others speak with clarity, my mouth is mush
chewing on the memories of the past, they're so lush
lay them out on a table, dissect them peacefully

disconnect, distance myself from everything which plagues me
thought they follow me around, looming like a redwood tree
it's easy for the wind and breeze to push around my bag
unleash the black, let me spill out, and reveal my innards to these lads