you are the smelly sock in my dirty laundry basket. you are the ugly girl i never thought about at age 14. you are the mold on the penicillin the doctor won't use. you are the rot in rotterdamm. you are a weakling lying in the sand at the beach to afraid to look at a dead crab fifty yards away. you are what you are and you know it so you scream at the world in the hope that you might insult someone enough that they will take you out of your misery.
i want you to be miserable so i am going to walk on by and only kick at your shadow.
oh look !, your shadow is crawling under the sand. i guess there is no hope for you if even your shadow won't take a beating for you.
