Maybe i can convince my body

That i am sick, but i don’t think

That would stick. 

And plus i would feel bad

About lying, deceiving,

And all for an empty day

Of being sad and mopey

At the computer.

Fireworks again. 

Cops will probably come. 

Maybe i should have been

A psychopath, not caring

About anything. They seem

To have a good time

Sometimes. Blowing-up skies

Or running Big-Cracker

Or turning prehistoric muck

Into air poison. The most pain

I will ever cause, hopefully,

Is a couple of bad poems

And a social faux pas. 

Okay, maybe

That is not true,

I feel like i can cause more

And have, but i am just

A silly dawdle who doesn’t

Mean to be anything more. 

Maybe i should become

An alcoholic.