Passed on, passed over.
Held in tupperware were all of my leftovers
And everything else was kept in an envelope.

Half shown, and half covered.
I'd blown off all of my friends,
and I shove my lonely self in a shower.
It had empowered a bitter pitiful boy
to finally say how much he enjoys being alive.

I'm a chewed up, contrived overworked
salad-piece made of charcoal and avarice.
It would have been nice to be plane
and just see what every one else sees.
But that's not me.
It's a version of myself I don't ever plan to be.