I am like the last empty jar on a shelf
Dusty in my forsaken corner.
I am the ignored, the forgotten
I exist only when you choose to see

I live only at the whim
of a fickle quirk of fate
And persist only at the lack
Of drive and ambition

I am the one who does not care
Enough
I am the one who will not try hard
Enough
I am the one who almost ran,
A now lame horse
That once had potential

I am the very thing
That you try hard to avoid
I am the very thing 
You teach your children not to be

I am a product of my nature
A victim of my nurture.
A whining, crying misfit 
Who tried so hard to fit in
That I pulled myself apart.

I am the last empty jar on a shelf.