I'm really burdened

It's a piece of driftwood on my soul

A puppet strung high with strings to control

As much as I pull and fight, it won't let go

And I'm slipping, sliding, drowning beneath

The waves that hold as beakers explode

Chemicals that should never be together

Interchanging liquid through an intercourse

Illegal, plugged with a fist

Blocking me from ever escaping

But corking a beaker only results in explosion

The floor

Is covered with shards of glass

Everybody else will tiptoe past

They don't want band-aids on their feet

They pretend they can't see, for if they saw

Guilt would force them to sweep

Me up and discard without regard

Today as I walked home, I was mobbed

Robbed of my playing cards

Scrounging for cash to pay my toll fee

I tried to barter for the Boardwalk

But jail's the only thing that's free