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FEELING DISENCHANTED
I'm bored and I can't help it.
That's just the way I feel.
My eyes are addle, I admit.
A plight I won't conceal.
Listlessness is visible.
I'm sure we know just why.
This town's a mirrored tinsel
With a platinum color dye.
You're jaded and mishandled,
and your insights all but bleak.
Your voice is clearly stifled.
I tune it out each time you speak.
Maybe, I need to leave the suburbs.
With lawns of fake green hues.
Oblivious, to rounded curbs
I dream of urban views.
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