You said this world is full of love but I have to disagree Love is a subjective thing just like misery Everyone's a product now We've become commodities Package up my memories They've got free delivery You can pick me up and toss me out With voyeuristic disconnect And I'm disconnected from myself So I can't connect with no one else A fragile plant potted in the clay An obstruction of the sunlight casting shade "But what if you were planted next to me? Would it feel less lonely?" Potted plants choke on their roots eventually