The 2 A.M Writer

Robotic.

I lay in grass fields next to broken glass

I see the sky, the one that birthed me

The one that I was told to follow from a young age

But age 6 is different from age 16

You realize what the sky can do

You realize that it can possibly give you a home after foreclosure

Or if you spit on it, it gives you a cold street

So many questions, all shut away

All of my teddy bears turned to heresy

I ask the clouds again why they birth me here

In this situation

In this life

I ask again, raising my voice

Another cricket filled answer

I scream at it this time, demand an answer

Why do you birth me and others in these husks?

These ships sent on rocky paths, destined to crash

Why do you?

Why are you?

Why won\'t you answer me!?

...

I\'ve found solace in oblivion

Neither in the sky or down in the dirt

I float on

On through the gray

The milky warm oblivion

I\'ve chosen my ultimate Apathy

White out the sky and dirt

I turn off the light and shut the closet door

This is the answer?

No

It is my answer

...