Solitude

Time runs screaming
The moon, the only company I can stand
You think I’m downward leaning
Well, maybe I am

I feel every passing judgement
And I can give no blame
No one is responsible
So I stay alone with just my shame

Tiptoe

Nothing’s tighter than the air between us
Your anger wrapped around my throat
It’s not for me, yet everything
Revolves around the things that make you choke

The rest of us are merely traitors
Stupid bitches on the sidelines
Wish I could say you’re wrong, but
We simply walk the edge of all you despise.

No Reply

Write a letter to your 100-year-old self.

Holy shit, you made it;
Figured you’d die years ago,
A child till the end.
Tell me, how much did you grow?

Did you travel the full circle,
Or did you blaze your own trail?
Did you adapt to all the bullshit,
Painting faces and your nails?

Did you do just what you wanted?
Did you find out what it was?
Did you ever learn to love and trust
Or was it really a lost cause?

Is it worth it to keep going?
Ah, but you can’t answer back.
I can only hope that if you could, you might;
That you have the spine I lack.