I’m writing these letters knowing you’ll forget
Knowing you only read because you got time to kill
Read because you want to prove you care
Blaming yourself because who else is there
Certainly not me
Sitting on a cushioned couch
It smells kind of rotten, old
There is this hole I tried to forget about
Tried to cover up with
Seated gently while needy hands grasp for crispy comfort
Paralyzed eyeballs staring into a void
Enjoying this carefree, joyous time
What’s missing they seem to question
Whatever, I need more.
They say today it’s them,
Tomorrow it’s you
but the message isn’t coming through
I mean, I know what’s left to do but why me, why today?
These problems remain, gonna stay anyways
I feel like what I feel isn’t the way supposed to
I should be shocked
Feel like I don’t want to be part of…
My hands grab for another crunchy piece of pleasure
As questions slip away
I turn on my radio
Longing for peace to have a chance
I long to find my remote control
Turn to the next song
Bored with compassion
Bored with taking actions
What else is wrong?
In 3..2…1… we all dance to another song.
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