Narcissit? Who me?

Monday, January 31, 2011

I've never had a firm grip.

When firm is my handle on things is,
steadily balanced, sturdy, in fist;
the tops go to turvy and I'm left with
myself spinning, missing the gist.

Oh hell with the world, as I see it,
I'll lock myself up till my time passes.
It's hard and it's rough, and I hate it;
chock-full of smug, smart, little asses.

I like myself better anyways.
All whom I meet- bore me to tears.
I'll die alone, at home with nobody.
The reality in all of my fears.






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