Wishy Washy

There are so many things that inspire me.

There are so many people I wish I could meet,

and I’ll still feel this way

as I lie on my deathbed

looking back on my life and having my last thought be

that there were so many things I never knew,

that there were so many things I wanted to do.

True inspiration is impossible to find.

Our universe is completely and romantically entwined.

I find it sort of beautiful, and a bit depressing,

that we’re all connected in one atrocious way.

We’re all alive, but whether we’re all living

is an entirely different story.

My wrist is hurting and my desperation is begging to go.

There will be nothing I regret more

than having to accept I will never accomplish or create

anything that caused inspiration to someone else struggling.

I will always regret that the day will never come

where someone will listen to my words and taste them on their tongue

and feel the way I feel today.

I will never fill someone with the yearning I have now,

knowing of the amazing things one person can create.

My concentration’s been lost and now I am too,

For what am I when I’m not put into words?

How can I understand the world when I can’t comprehend

That everything and nothing will come to an end?

True faith is hard to come by and there’s a reason for that,

but to call it divine intervention’s bit of a stretch.

This song doesn’t have a chorus,

I’m sick of repetition.

I’m sorry you can’t sing along.

Maybe you can learn the meaning and listen for once.

My words aren’t for everyone, not every ear can handle this sound.

If yours can I pity you, because the feelings I feel

aren’t ones I’d wish on anyone real.