[rotten inside]

it's hard to remember a time when i was happy
with just the way the sunlight feels
pressing hard against my back in the dead of winter

now it's only the feeling that, like decaying wood, if you
cut me open i'd be rotten inside the way leftover
pumpkin looks in the trash heap outside

like a freak in a freak show,
chained to everything that makes me miserable and
unable to break free from the pain that's
suddenly so much louder and harder to shut out