During those times,
you don’t feel like you have a place in this world;
You are too far gone,
too out there.
Too different.

Carrying that shame around like a heavy load.
Every time you put it down,
you wish you could leave it on the ground;
but then you’ll say or do something,
pick it up again,
and continue on your way.

Why do I exist?
I can’t stand myself.
I wish I could beat me.
Beat all the things out that I don’t like.
Wouldn’t be much left after that.
I feel like I’m enclosed in a room
full of eggshells.
Everywhere I walk,
crunch, crunch, crunch.
When I try to open the door to escape,
try to sit down,
Try to fly,
crunch, crunch.
I fall down every time.
Fucking crunch.

About walkercadillac

Deconstructed Elegance. View all posts by walkercadillac

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