Molasses Melancholy Cowboy

I’m stuck, d****t! Stuck!

I’m goddamn lonely, but I hate feeling pushy.

I feel bloody soppy, like a flower plushy.

Damn, I want to pass the puck.

Still, at least I’m not a nuisance, right?

The hell you aren’t, kid!

This is life, not a video game.

Sitting out doesn’t make you less of a pain,

it makes you more of a pain to a different person.

Hell, if I could quit, I would have, right?

Jump off a boat into the ocean and drown.

But then I’d never see the little cousins grown.

I want to see that, before I feel the fish bite.

I seem to live for the dying and the growing.

Puppy dogs and elder cats.

And really, in a semantic sense, we’re all doing that.

So might as well just keep on lowing.

Get on home, cowboy.

You’re melancholy is getting cold.