All that has come from my body,
all that this body has made,
is waste.
It makes look and tissue that sluf off.
It makes **** thats pushed out,
and it makes *** thats squeezed out.
On the occasional night of to much drinking,
maybe ***** that is forced from the stomach.
This body has had no accomplishments,
no miracles.
This body was created to create,
but has not yet found its purpose.