Wallow
Down here, I wallow in the slime
but whine about it, all the time
This pit of muck and dirt I dig,
to root about in, like a pig
Filled with angst and fear and doubt
so deep that I cannot climb out
I make it stink with rank self pity
the kind that comes from thinking shitty
When you look down, from up on high
you'll know me by my weepy eyes
But pass on by, don't shed a tear
for I really kind of like it here
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015
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