i looked out at myself
from the dregs of a bottle
the taste of life sour and mottled
i’d done nothing
to anyone
for anyone
for myself
packed in my life
(stored on a shelf)
see I grew sick and tired
of being sick and tired
bein’ pushed around
and brought down
was afraid to die
looked death in the eye
and backed down
thought, what the hell?
if all goes well
i’ll crash and burn
when it’s my turn
but I’m afraid of the fear
that no one would hear
my silent tear
when death comes near
i am alone
with myself
another poem
on the shelf
i’m not good
not even ok
and I should just
go away
then come back
together
from the lands of forever
with something
real to say