Stuck in a funk
Hear my gears begin to clunk
I feel clean, in mind, by writing
Whlie I’m dealing with how it all stunk
That I’m so boring
Fear all my listeners are snoring
Insuring
That my bullshit is SO not alluring.
This self-deprecation won’t get me anywhere…
If I’d quit causing complication, allow myself to share
What shit tips I give to myself…
The one’s I’ve ripped from the shelf
From where my eyes can’t reach, but my fingers have felt
Parts of my mind I deny mental health
Parts I try and hide, while I rely on their wealth
No harm in dealing with the cards you’ve been dealt.
