Tumbling up and down the aisle,
Idling in front of the ice cream.
Crying about how that one flavor left,
Letting you hang and dry on a bucket of ice.

Ask yourself, "Is it really worth going through?"

Turn the corner and plunge face first in
Fishy residue that kinda tastes like glue.
Glacial grandmas clogging up the aisle,
Eyes subdued by pretty colored boxes.

Nod yes, "This is what my momma says I want to do."

Hurdle over tantrum throwing toddlers,
Tell yourself how they'll never be like you.
U-turn into some pickled shallots,
Shattered shards ticked gently between your toes.

Ask yourself, "Shouldn't I expect more?"

Slip and slide past the yellow caution sign,
Sigh and shrug as your feet begin to leave the floor.
Fly over registers of frustrated heads,
Heading towards the front door and into the trash can.

They say, "No, no. This is what living life is for."

Dumped properly in a swamp on the corner.
Corn bits and bran flakes filter through your nostrils.
Nothing's been gained from this whole ordeal,
Or maybe you're not destined to enjoy it.