shame guilt shame

I know how hard it is to walk against the pre-programmed self-sabotage, 

I know of the pummeling port inside

A token of internal thrumps

It slumbers inside

Skins you alive

But you don't have style

When you walk, arch, and smile

Like an idiot donkey

when it comes to company

That is no smile

Let me tell you straight up

Let me slam it on your face

Your concave gut gates guilds of guilt

While a snake-like saw sews a lad dubbed shame

Guilt, shame, guilt,

Shame, guilt, shame

To this poem there is no solution,

It seems I've written myself into a sinking ship

Tsk, tsk, tsk