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So low in self pity that I scramble on bent knees choking on dirt
Barely worth possessing and certainly not jealousy
Sinking lower and lower
I dare not breath
For that would circum worth
Worth would invite a touch
Worth would invite want
Worth would invite me
But it doesn't
Not even abuse
Too low to spit on
For that would be something

Not even remorse

Beyond worth, I ponder
Choosing to hate myself
Choosing the road of continued rejection
Choosing to be a coward
To stay
I think, therefore it is
Slapping my face daily
In nothing, there is something
I'm not apart of

Copyright © 2002, Trina Zacharias