He looks like me, sometimes.
He wants to be like me, I think.
He’s trying, it seems,
To make something good,
For a while.

But then I see,
He’s a Roach.
He prefers to feed
On what I leave behind.
Its just the noise he makes,
Its not a question he asks.
Its not in earnest he sees.
This Roach.

He wants what I have, Okay.
He wants just a piece, I think.
But he wants it all, in time.
Then he wants to stand with his shaking belly in the air.
He’s mastered it all, he says,
He’s got his crown on his weird head,
But dude, we all see you,
Such a Roach.