what use am I? do I deserve love, even when I'm left to wallow in despair? I sit alone in my dark, claustrophobic room, while those in this house, not home to me, carry on in their free flowing abodes. They don't understand my pain. I hide it all behind a smile...foolish boy I am! old enough, yet not a man. A real man would speak his mind. but when it comes to do or die, you shrivel up and bow your head in submission.
Crimson red flows from these veins, but why? I must not be human. A human has more amenities than I do. Mini-fridge, laptops, spacious rooms, vehicles...I must not be deserving of at least a little bit of pity.
Just spit on my face, I don't mind. My face is already covered with the filth of jealousy. It doesn't even wash off with comet. and std that isn't infectious, but spontaneously, transmitted by the dick called my mind. at least, that is how I feel.
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livewires self proclaimed resident poet