Tired of this person I've become,
Not what I intended to be
23 years of being her,
And look what it's done to me
A reflection of everyone that touches my heart,
With no true identity of my own,
A fruitless, strong barked, withered leaved tree,
Of seeds the grim reaper must have sown
I feel shallow, and vacant,
I feel old, but still nascent
With the Midas touch of crap,
I destroy everything I touch,
I appease the people I hate,
And hurt the ones I love much!
Careful where you stand,
Quicksand is potent here,
Make a decent life of yourself,
Don't let me come near