Wrong Side of the Bed


You are like a superhero, created in childlike fancy

with power to do anything that your mind imagines,

but you have no imagination so you simply fester.

You are Green Lantern without his Ring of power,

Superman wearing a cape made from Krypotonite,

and Batman without any money or motivation.

You are the essence of wasted potential, the stench

of failure wafts from your every orifice like a plague.

A timid plague, not the Black plague of destruction

you are so utterly hopeless that you fail at failing.

You are Ash Ketchum without his Pikachu, blue

in the face from yelling pathetic pleas to the winds.

You are Naruto without Karuma, Sasuke sans Sharigan

Lee without Guy and Sakura…well just as she is.

You are the epitome of relentless forsaken dreams,

you are the stumbling block in every traveler’s path,

the messiah to the demons of sloth and greed and avarice.

You are the personified presence of pitiful paradigms

needing shifting but you are Megatron with no spark,

just a bad toy in need of a new home in the junk yard.

You are the embodiment of Aergia, the killer of muses

but even in your failure you can’t hit rock bottom

because that would mean you have accomplished something.

You are limbo, empty like Natsu without his flames

or Luffy without his Devil Fruit, only dreaming you can reach.

You are Ciel without Sebastian and Light with no notebook.

You are purposeless and irrelevant, your existence only

potent as an example for parents to point to as warning.

Boredom doesn’t even convey the width of your lack

and inadequacy only cracks open the door to your folly.

crybaby Tsuna is picked sooner than you to be on a team,

you’re about as free as the Doctor with no Tardis,

your tardies never counted because you’re invisible.

You are beneath the slime trail left by a slug

and your entire existence begs to be aborted but

even your mother couldn’t bare to let you win an easy death.

 You are Goku with no dragon balls, dead to the world

and you are like Dexter with no conscience, a serial killer

but you botched the killings like Harry and Marv

you are the blatant disregard of common courtesy

and the troll sitting behind a computer desk forever alone.

You are the embodiment of every failure,

the fulfillment of every night time terror,

the perfect example of potential wasted.

You are a monster.

You are…me.



One thought on “Wrong Side of the Bed

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