Prone to bouts of melancholy
Head pressed against the cool glass of the cafe window
Watching the people go about their day unaware
You can feel the emptiness inside like a stone or weight
Which in itself makes even less sense than giving it your time
The clocks hands go round like a broken record again and
One hour slips into the next and still no change inside
One day slips into to the next and it\'s all just light and dark
Waiting for something to break so that something good might get in...