Charity Case

I don’t think anyone
Really gives a fuck
About me

I’m a time killer
And a seat filler
That’s me.

The people who are kind
In their most benign incarnation
Simply take pity on the lump

And I’m so fucking tired
Of that stupid
Negative Bull. Shit.

Yeah. Fine.
I’ve had those experiences
Where someone has done that shit

Kids are mean
And I grew up in a town populated by wasps
And industrial cans of paint thinner

I was the kid
Whose journal got read
At parties

All the home
Signals lit up
Across the board

And I’m a fuck up
Fuck up
Fuck up

’til the day
I cycle off this rock
But I’ve also got

I’ve got people who make me gifts
I get quilts, and action figures
Of things from my obscure interests

I’ve got people who don’t know me
Or owe me or think of me
As a toe-hold for their egotism climb

I’m really quite lucky
And I know I don’t say that
Or recognize it

With adequate
Or even passable frequency
But fuck me

I’m fucking lucky

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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