For what its worth,
and it sure as hell ain’t worth a ****.

I felt, the hit.
When it fell it broke, pieces never mean ****.

Left nothing but a scratch on a wooden floor,
but it was treated as a sore in my mouth that I bore.
Tongued and picked until I bled it out.

Packed and labeled as misunderstood.
You hit the ground and you never mistook.
The cracks and frays that wouldn’t let you be.

You spend nights in the cold.
Kept out by unwelcomes and deadbolts.
Hit the bottle harder than it could ever hit back.

We **** and scream till the day dreams freeze.
Fleeing but clinging, we pray for the memories.
We get, we just get on with it

Broken heads, lay as they seem.
To never mend but wait for what comes to be.

Don’t pity the dead, they’ve done their bit.
Clocked out of a world that we never come to fit.

Afraid of the hours just before sleep,
and the thoughts that tend to seep.

You never saw it coming but you’re **** glad it’s here