Maybe I'm nails on a chalkboard,
Interrupting peace with every screech.
Your two least favorite foods mixed together
A sight no one wants to see.

Maybe I’m polka dots paired with stripes,
Three clashing shades of pink.
A beat too fast, the words don’t match,
And you’ll never catch up to me.

I’m toast that's burnt, leaves left on the curb,
The promise of fun—but never the one.
And worst of all?
I’m the one who got me there.