To be perfectly clear … I’m a nut case. Not only a nut case, but a hard-luck case Wrapped up nice and neat With Saran wrap of mental maladies And bubble wrapped with faulty perceptions And you know what? It’s ******* comfortable in this box. Relaxed is a side effect of anxiety, Like having an ******, you get tense Then that sweet release that leaves you Melting into the mattress, that’s what my “disorder” does to me. And while you sit and you stare and you judge and you blame I … smile and wipe the sweat and tears from my face. So, to be perfectly clear. I’m nothing but a beautifully taped box Of stress, anger, resentment and depression With a slight mixture of joy and pride mixed in Waiting to be shipped off To anyone, anywhere, away from that gaze Of unrestrained disdain. And so, again, to be ever so clear. I’m what you’d call emotionally unavailable, Damaged goods, as I’m sure you can see The dents my last handlers left behind for me To bash out to regain a sense of normalcy, Then you had to come along and reveal them all again. Thanks for that. And sorry, but the person you are trying So desperately to reach is Unavailable. To be perfectly clear.