The Rat Race.

They tell me to look to the past, but how far am I supposed to look? They tell me, "Maybe it's you. You ever think of that?'" 

Little do they know, that's all I can think. 

Meet a boy at fifteen, and he steals your heart. Yet sooner or later, that won't matter. It's all a part of the same sick little games but what's more pathetic is that’s simply life. 

That's how it's always been. A rueful rat race, being run and manipulated by jealous snakes, controlling those unfortunate enough to be deemed the 'rats'.

Snakes on the window sill watching them, the one's that can keep their head up and face the world, unlike the ruthless snake.

 So she sits alone, the green inside boiling and screaming to be released.

She smiles not out of satisfaction, but out in the bliss of undoubted insanity.

She smiles knowing the world is full of snakes; living on pure selfishness, just like her.

The emptiness weighs her down, breathing becomes hard, and the same Smiths song has been on repeat since she lit her first cigarette.

The need to win the rat race continues, but of course, a snake in a world filled with rats is built to win, even unfairly so.

The win is in sight, of course, but everyone had a step ahead of her.

One step, two step, three step; then everything stops.

The need to conform to the course is dead; the snake has admitted defeat.

The rat has lost his fight, and his way of living.

The snake has gone and lost, and lost the way.

The race is over, the clocks run out, and the lies have all stopped,

Yet how can you tell when the race has stopped, or when you've simply died?

Author's Note

It was a dark feelings kinda night.