I feel like I'm broken,
And I've been that way for a long time.
I feel like I'm some project that someone once started,
But they gave up on because the no longer cared for it.
Eventually they got frustrated with it,
And I was thrown against the wall,
All so I could sit in the corner of someone's dusty garage,
Where I could be forgotten.
But I haven't really been forgotten.
No, I haven't been forgotten,
Because roaches burrow themselves into my body,
Making it their home.
They feast on my innards,
Tearing me apart from the inside out.
As if I wasn't broken enough.
I'm someone's pet project that they threw away,
And I feel like that's how I've been for a very long time now.
