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.