What do you complain about the most?

There’s the heat, and there’s the cold
To be young, and to be old
There’s the ever nearing feeling
Of eternal isolation

There’s horror come of company
The unknown that you want from me
And the greater dread of knowing
All I could never give alone

There’s the day and there’s the night
There is wrong and there is right
And in the end it’s everything
That life meant me to be shown.

Too Late

I see you happy and it kills me
I see you happy and I know
You never needed me
Who am I without you, though?

I’m miserable and you’ll never see
Would it kill you to know?
I only wanted you not to see
I never meant to go.


You think I’ll live and die alone
But I already have
You think I’ll never reach the world again
That doesn’t sound so bad

You think I’m capable of more
I think you’re more than wrong
Every test that’s come my way
Has disappointedly gone

You think to get me into shape
With a stencil and a knife
Well I truly am sorry, dear
But this is my life.