Underappreciated.

[Certain]

My spark plugs are blown. Is someone home?
I'm trying to get my life up and goin'.
From dusk 'til gloam, I'll bust my butt and roam,
trying to function alone
with nothing but a crusted bone and this fucking poem.
Ready to cut a throat like a young Capone.
Trying to better my reach as I work to touch the throne.
Predators creep ahead of the weak, but I serve and protect.
So let's settle this beef with a murderous bet.
Yes, I'd prefer to the death. I'm winning either way
and would certainly get the perfect event if the tourniquet bled.
I deserve some respect, yet I work and I sweat
and take the perks of each check to the Perkins for eggs.
I'm always here, Mr. Dependable with the irreversible debt
and a landlord who isn't curbing the rent.
About to burst with regret.
Would that nervousness end with a funeral?
No one ever forgets the beautiful.