self-loathing something I'm good at

garble

I’m limping like the broken do
On down our crumbling avenues
With no company for the decaying
And nobody for the melancholy
I’m a shoddy apart from everybody
Like an estranged thing
That shambles below those static shades
Living like the tiny do, mixed in the multitudes
I’m of no meaning or mention when coupled with
Sweet others emitting brighter colors in swift succession