Breadlines, deadlines
I can't find the right lines
To speak to girls; or women,
For that matter.
 
I'm on the breadline, the sideline
Always looking on and never playing.
Always ready with a good whine
To inflict on anyone with the time
To listen to this shit.
 
I'm a baseline; rock bottom.
Frozen in line, at the back of the queue,
Towing the partyline and hating it.
Watching like a voyeur as others do fine
 
I am pond slime; amoebic in my efforts.
At least to some.
Neonatal in my self expression,
Inadequate with my spoken rhyme.
 
I'm on the breadline
And this bread is getting stale.