I smell like ****
It was something I that I controlled
Turns out it was brightly lit
This knowledge hurts

I look like ****
I never knew anyone would care
I only want to cross the street
I got upset upon watching a street fair

I talk like ****
A store clerk can't understand me
Feels like I choke on my own spit
How is my life worth more than a flea

I feel like ****
Why can't everyone just ignore my decay?
There's an urge to start a rebel,
But instead I just walk to a nearest ashtray