Unknown

First attempt. Hopefully my style gets better.

What is it like

Outside of these walls?

What is it like

To not have to crawl

On eggshells?

To live in the moment,

Not worry about the next step.

To live a happy life

And not want to be hanging at the neck

From the ceiling…

Or a branch…

That’s one thing I’ve always liked.

Nature breezing by easily,

Not worried about

Dragging through life limply.

It’s awful.

But it’s whatever, I guess.

I’ll keep trudging along.

From what I’ve heard, I’ll be sixty

And dead before too long.

I hate who I am, I hate who I see

I hate every bit of every part of me.

I guess I can rhyme alight.

And other small things.

I play ukulele when I’m sad at night,

But that’s slipping away, too.

So I’ll sit.

Wait for my time to pass.

Soon I’ll be old and senile,

and that’ll be it.

I’m dead.