This is how the world likes me:
On my knees, on my back.
Mouth open, eyes closed...
In the kitchen, making a sandwich.
In the baby's room,
cleaning up another mess.
At the office,
cheerful, smiling and sexy.
Wrinkled and fat, in a hospital bed.
Old and emaciated, drugged into sedation.
Gray ash spilled on parking lot pavement.

This is where the world wants me:
Behind a screen, behind a desk, behind closed doors, behind locked gates, behind bars.

Science confirms: I'm a genetic failure.
I'm dumb, ugly, depressed, dull, and boring because I'm genetically inferior.

If I weren't so stupid,
why couldn't I survive being killed?