Combustion

It's about that time,
for a new production, a new revelation,
a new half-assed, meaningless, force-fed, spoon full of medication.
I just don't think I can bring myself to do it this time.

I'd like to think,
I have a world of people watching my every move,
and that I have nothing more to improve.
But god, is that a delusion.

It's getting pretty hard for me to tell
am I part of this rash community?
Or maybe I'm the immunity?
I'd like to think myself as such but that just adds to the pile.

I'm sure most everyone has noticed,
that these things only get shorter and shorter,
and that I have one, maybe two supporters.
I really should ask myself,

Why am I doing this?

Author notes

This is possibly the most literal piece of poetry I have ever written, I think I'd cry if no one got this.

(If you still didn't get the meaning from the poem, it's in the tags people).