Doomed From the Start
how dare i complain
b***h and moan about
all my pain
i have another life to
think about
not yet created
but i spend so many
nights self medicating
not good for the baby
not good for me
but at bars and in men's
cars are where one can
find me
singing the same sad
tale
while giving up my tail
losing myself to the
easiest forms of self
comfort
self respect and
self esteem
are mere pipe dreams
shots of vodka
random sex and pill
bottles
are my therapy
and what about my
unborn
i deserve much scorn
because i wish it was
torn
yes, ripped away
i was never s**t
and won't be on
delivery day
so why did i not
take care of this
situation before
was i too busy being
a drunken, addled mind
w***e
no, even through all
the mental mess
i must confess
the ultimate act of
selfishness:
i'll have someone who loves me