I see these people in fancy suits and they blend
The red and black and blue
They remind me of bruises
Maybe I should be a bruise too,
I mean, I get them all the time
But I’m suffocating
And it’s hard to be something you aren’t
When you can barely be what you are.
I’m asphyxiated by my own life
Well, isn’t that just tragic?
That if I showed this to anyone they would
Ask if I was okay.
There are fortunately some people in this world
That would happily read and accept it.
And then maybe ask if I wanted to take a walk
Or go eat some frozen yogurt.
But I haven’t found them yet.
For now I’ll just try to clean my room
And take out the trash
Then hopefully I will be able.
Able to breathe in and live a little longer.