Scott Mc

It’s hard to explain.
It’s like you’re a broken record player, skipping over and over.
It’s like you’re a wilting flower, dreaming of blooming again.
It’s like you’re a marathon runner with two broken legs.
It’s like you’re a lion’s prey, being eaten alive.
It’s like you’re driving into oncoming traffic.
It’s like you’re a drowning infant.
It’s like you’re nothing.
Like you’re nothing.
You’re nothing.
I’m nothing.
Nothing.