A Lesson From Me

What could anyone possibly learn from me? Besides how to hide in alleys, climbing dead ends like a tree. Or how to hoard your own burdens, allowing guilt to turn to endless static. Maybe I can warn others of my curse, which turns me erratic. Maybe they want my sanity, which has become untethered. I am like a burnt out street lamp, which has been weathered. And no longer provides safety to others, in the blaze of night. Maybe others will rob me of my guilt in my plight. So that they will be bedridden with my past. And sleep with urgency, until the pain has passed.