Passing By

Wrote this a couple days ago while I was in a good ol' depressive slump. Did a bit of edits so I figured I'd throw it up on here. Here goes nothing.

In this stiff seat I rest,

At the back of a bus

On the edgemost seat,

Cheeks smeared against the window.

The bus jostles and I jostle with it.

I've stared at the same blurred tree for days,

Begging for this to end,

Yet I can't peel away my gaze.

Oh. Just around the bend until my stop.

Home.

The road curves and I curve with it.

Pull the cord, press the button.

Request a stop.

What are you waiting for? You're going to miss it!

My arm meekly rises before collapsing back into my lap

And the stop passes me by.

My eyes follow it with the energy of a sloth.

And it's gone.

That's alright. Just get off at the next stop.

Pull the cord.

Push the button.

Why do you just lie there?

And the next stop passes me by,

And the next.

And the next after that. 

And the next after that, too.

They all sprout wings and soar past me.

And then I see them linger at the next stop.

Friend, family, foe.

Like zebras on an open pasture,

Identical.

And they all pass me by.

Eyes of the viper, lips of sweet cotton candy.

It all passes me by.

It doesn't matter where we are now - just pull the cord!

Press the button!

Make it stop!

And I'm but frost etched on the window,

Waiting for someone to wipe me away.

And all the stops pass me by.

Author's Note

ROAST ME DADDY