how many whiskeys before i realize
i'm really no good at this thing.
i mean, everything.
i guess what i should say is: this life.
i don't wash my hands enough. i'm wasteful and petty.
i seriously think i'm pretty. honestly. probably prettier than you.
i'm letting my mom grow older without me
(what gratitude).
i sleep too much and complain;
talk badly about co-workers.
i will leave no legacy. a mediocre existence
and bad jokes.
and this poem,
goddammit,
it's shaping up to be all about me -
what a selfish bitch.
No comments:
Post a Comment