Seven steps away
An eternity to an ant
But not long for me
I linger at my table
Because my hands smell like bleach
But I've always had
trouble with that.
It could be that they're pretty
Like some kind of picture
But I look like
Some kind of muppet
so at least I'm usually in a good mood.
Now I smell like bleach
But at when least my feet
Touch the ground I know
There isn't a place lower
I could go