Something Worth Considering

I'm sick in the head, a ticking bomb,

Time to say goodbye to mom.

Tape it up and limp along,

Who's to say what's right from wrong?

Or better yet, who fucking cares?

Every time I do, compared.

To snakes that hiss and deal despair,

Repulsive; breathing the same air.

Mind rot pours and falls from their mouths,

And the stench is so damn loud.

It thickens, starts to choke you out,

I'd rather hold my breath; without.

The oxygen I really need,

Something worth considering.

Remove the hands that always feed,

They'll scream and cry, but have to bleed...

Or none will ever truly be even remotely somewhat clean...