I’m not that interesting (but I try to be)
I have pages full of violent imagery
Hide metaphors with no real meaning
It’s really all just boring poetry

About self-deprecation
Or ego inflation
Occasionally intellectual masturbation
And rhymes so forced you’d swear I’m not even trying

But I’m just dying

A busted septic tank
My what a mess we make
By the time I notice it’s far too late
Become a stagnant pond below me

Why do I say it’s still too good for me?
Why do I say I don’t believe in me?
Or why do I say I don’t deserve to be

Happy

Or sad or really anything?
Emotions reserved for human beings

A right I gave up when I abandoned hope
When I abandoned everything
Can I say I really believe this?
Or is this self-pity just a stupid gimmick
So people will pay attention to me
And somehow it became ingrained in me
Well I’ll mark the day when I give up trying
Pick of the rope for this knot I’m tying
In my gut, and I’ll throw up
Purge away these awful feelings
Because they’re not good for me