Long Shadows

Every day I’m alive I’m waking up pissed.

I dream of bleeding to death from every orifice.

Everything that we do never makes sense.

I seek a means to an end with deadly consequence.

It’s like the choices I make force me to regress,

And having time just to think makes me depressed.

Everyone that I know is like the walking dead,

And I’m likely to snap if I don’t watch where I tread.

Where are the places to heal?

Where are the places to run?

Where are the places to grow?

Where is my place in the sun?

I think I’m starting to die.

I smell my blood growing stale.

I try to soak up the light,

And yet I’m still growing pale!