This isn't a poem. It's life.

This isn't a poem, it's a genuine rant. See, since birth I've watched others do things I can't. Born deformed, twisted, malnourished, my fingers contort in agony. Unstable, unworthy, unloved, I didn't get shit from the fake god above. And so here I am, tooth and nail, fighting my way up to no avail. I never knew who you were until I thought about it, same as me, warped and splintered, ready to put a hole through your head by pulling the trigger.