FINE
This is my life
crappy and small
no one will love me
or need me at all.
I’ll wither away
a bit at a time
pared down to the bone
no one to call me “Mine.”
I’ll walk like a shadow
down regular streets
I’ll pick through the garbage
with never enough to eat.
I’ll hold out my hands
I’ll silently plead
“Anyone out there,
won’t you help me?”
I’ll die every day
a bit at a time
I’ll whisper the lie to myself
that everything’s gonna be fine.
