sunday breakfast

I don't deserve to eat, I deserve to die,
But then I get hungry, and it's uncomfortable, so I eat.
My girlfriend says everyone deserves love,
But she doesn't know the things I've done,
The bad links I've clicked,
And how I've slept with every one of her friends.
Thoughts like these make my bran flakes taste soapy,
Kinda metallic, maybe it's the spoon.
And I daydream about joining the war in Ukraine,
Because at least my suicide would mean something,
and people would misinterpret me as a dumb hero.
That's the type of egomaniac I am.
I'm so engrossed in myself that I gross myself out and push the bowl aside.
I don't deserve to eat, I say again.
My girlfriend rolls her eyes,
Because I've already eaten enough not to be hungry anymore.

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