Scum

So universally unwanted and cosmically crippled, the ground itself would reject my footsteps if I kept on walking. But I can come to a complete stop now, because there is no sense in going anywhere. The days are a waking nightmare spent sitting in a quiet corner, shunned by civilised company. The nights are spent sitting in a quieter corner, grasping for words to explain what it is I feel. But words crumble too in the face of the shadow I cast. All living things must die alone. And some must live alone too.