8/6/21
I\'m broken like an ancient bicycle along the street
and it feels wrong, but not something that anybody speaks about
or of it speech allowed, must be unseen by crowds
to be this obscure, to be this endured yet its the life I lead
sometimes I yearn for a bit of rice and beans like its salvation for humanity
but its just a tasteless and unsatisfactory emotion that passes by like vehicles that pass in rapid speeds
I\'m just a captive of this fortress built around outlasted dreams
where compassion\'s absent, its just about how many bills are pocketed inside your jeans
and responses seem so few and far in between
that it feels like a scar when its my last thought before I\'m off to sleep
like its a cost to dream, I\'m running out of dollars it seems
your typical adulthood griefs, in this typical unreal distorted place of schemes
I\'ve lost taste and plea, that it I desire no longer rather just urge to flee
after submerged in these, conditions the only thing in mind is: pack-up and leave
no laughs no tea, just a note farewell
and the cherished sensation of someone who cares about the tale it tells