The story of the anthropomorphic pizza that's been laying there for a few weeks now

I got you on my mind,
haunting me most of the time,
like 24/7-11,
pizza on my floor,
laughing at the matter,
of me locking my bedroom door.

Fearful of the fact,
that you always come back,
keeping windows shut,
just to keep the thought out.

Middle age crisis hits harder when it's before the quarter age crisis

At twenty-two,
I can’t afford spending my life with you.
And once I hit forty-four,
I’ll make sure to never cross the front door.

Half way down,
holding a glass in which I always drown,
waste the nights on sin,
just to hold everything within.

And now at thirty-three,
I hope I’m happy with me.
Praise the mistakes and tethered sounds,
hold me down cause I overstepped the bounds.