I’m tired, but I can’t sleep.
I’m Hungry, but whenever can I eat?
I’m angry, but I’ll be scared of your reproach.

You’ll find this format lackadaisical.
You may find it incompetent and benign in approach.
You might even find this lazy and misunderstandable, or complex with flaw.

This pathetic display is only for one:
It’s he who saw another sad pawn who thinks he knows it all;
And when the night is gone, no doubt it will leave me banging my head in the wall.

It’s not to say I’m remorseful for saying this all,
But I’ll likely regret it at the end of nightfall.
I’m a coward in most ways, but confident on my worst days;

A backhanded and passive expression, this is not meant to be.
This is all that came to me, not to air dirty laundry.
I’m a drunken fool at times, but that’s the game you know that I play.

My intention was never offense, being smart isn’t my strength.
But I felt offense, it would be a lie if I didn’t say.
It was harsh, the rhetoric from either way.

Misunderstandings define our fights. Who is wrong, who is right?
You are… most of the time, to be fair.
But to wrong all the time, it urges one like me to get into fights.

to this end, I have to air:
at this point, I don’t really care. Its one more thing to forget,
If not, I know I’ll simply live in regret.

In fact, I regretted this poem the moment I wrote it out;
And every moment it exists brings out more doubt,
But somehow, it felt pretty good to write.

And whether you think it’s stupid, unreasonable, and full of clout,
For every fool who sees it and thinks, “what garbage is this shite?”
At least you know, I wrote it for you, ye beautiful cunt.