Can't drink, too thirsty. Cannot eat, too hungry. Once again, all I do is rewarded with disappointment. I won't bear any of this much longer, I guess. Ugh, how much money will I have to waste? How much time spent proving myself, over and over? How much time explaining and making myself ridiculous simply for the pleasure of others, to get a crumb of humanity? A monkey on a stage, that's what I am; and I'm dressed in a colourful clown outfit and a red nose.
The nose squeaks like a mouse, and my voice is altered and high-pitched. They'll come to me and ask me if I'm able to say "hi". This is for their entitlement. They must always have the high ground, huh? Always in control.
YOU ARE READING
pissy buckets of shitty poetry
Randomim italian so there might be mistakes this shit contains everything so uhh