I’ve ******* lost all of my **** marbles
I don’t find a spec of solace in any online articles
For the life of me, I cannot predict many of my neuronic particles
But I have to get out of bed in the morning like you do because I have **** to do too.

I don’t know who I am or who I want to be
I’ve spent my whole life mirroring rap lyrics and people on tv
Every word I speak feels like a desperate plea
I just want to feel at home someday, somewhere

What other people have, I desperately crave
I know for a fact there are many social groups I cannot infiltrate
People give me pity and call me sweet, I’d rather have hate
But I don’t see it happening since I don’t often provoke any strong feeling

To be hated, better than being tolerated, I suspect
I put so much effort in and that’s why I fail tests
I can empathize, listen, sacrifice, and jest,
But people want friends, not servants

Self-deprecating as I am, I love being I
I love being wrong, **** being wise
When I get serious, I look people in the eyes,
So maybe I’ll start doing that more often.