My brain feels flat
Flatline on a clothesline
Having in the balance between flying and falling
But too weak to hold on and give a damn
Strawberry tea over ice
After a breakfast of eggs on toast
Eyes on the clock
Watching and waiting for the inevitable
For the fear
The dread
For whatever is supposed to happen
When the clock finally stops ticking
What's the meaning of it all
Or more simply
Why am I here
Am I supposed to change the world
Make people revolt
Stand up
Take back what's theirs
What they believe in
I don't know
Nobody gave me any hints when I appeared here
When I was born or hatched
Nobody helped me figure out
The meaning of life
Because quite frankly
There isn't any
We just wake up
We exist
We sleep
We wake up as something else
Or we don't even wake up
If that's your belief
But it's the waking up
That simply makes me want to sleep in
Following along with the philosophies of Brian Kelly
I agree
When he said
Adults are under the impression that there's going to be anything in thirty years
That's too far ahead
With the rate we're going
If we make it to next year
It'll be a fucken miracle
So why
Do we sit and think
About where we'll be in the future
If we'll even get there
Exhale slow
Finish the strawberry tea
With the ice all melted
Gather my things
And leave the house
Because money is the root of all evil
And society says
After the ripe age of eighteen
You are an adult
No refunds or returns
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 4
Poetryhello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
