Broken

I'm not crazy,

I'm broken.
Busting knee caps in my imagination, blasting reality away from me, houdoukin.

Bossin', dark horse.
Eating- a bit more.
Running, a chore.
That's a lot, galore.

But no really,
I'm a jerk.
Touchy, feely,
Eh, that's work. 

And I'd love to finish,
But it seems I'm a bit childish,
Though I'll leave you with this.
I've yet to lock, load, and miss.

anxietyartcrazywriterhyme

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