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.