The World

I wake up feeling like shit
Sun shining in my eye as if it’s personally lit
Worn out clothes that don’t even fit.

Constant conversations with myself, no sense in it
I’m not going mad…ok, maybe a little bit
Just trying to fix myself, I’m my own tool kit.

Internally bruised as if I’ve been hit
Cliche emotions, falling down an endless pit
Right on the edge of myself, can’t even sit.

Underrate myself, feel like a tit
Hardly brave, might as well knit
And I got this stupid fucking zit.

Then I remember why no one’s ever there:
The world is not obligated to care.


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