I don't want to sound pathetic, but lately,
I haven't been able to focus, and I cannot blame anyone but myself.
My hands weigh me to the floor, the snapping of a will,
Like twigs between toes, the brainless jabbering I spew
Makes me sick to my stomach; do me justice: hate me.
I have no room for making excuses, I wouldn't know Hell,
If I were to walk through it myself. I'm too busy sitting still,
To care about the world outside my skull, so I'll follow you.