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Poem

A shadow of the sun
a silhouette created by a sunset
One more summer has came and went 
and I'm sitting inbetween the hours of 8 and 9
miserable and lonely
Is it me
Is it me to get screwed over aimlessly
tied in a knot of pretty little bow
on top of a brand new shredder
Oh no, there's one of my strands caught
here I go into the cascade of oblivion
Is it me
Is it me to lay here, stuck in a timeless routine
I could predict every step of my life
name all the things I would do down to the key
the hours and times I would end and begin again to find a source of idiotic entertainment
Is it me, is it me
Why is this me
I could blame every inch of this city
I could blame every inch of this city
I could point all my fingers at this blistering heat
but it would just look like I'm bowing down in submission to the sun
but it would just look like there's something massively wrong with me
Is there something massively wrong with me
I just want to go back home
but I would just be the same wreck as I am now
I just want to go back home
but I'd still be me, moping in someone's elses grief
I'd still be me getting screwed over by more cunning minds
or just the less naive
As morbid as it seems
the days I live sometimes just makes me want to abruptly
shut my eyes and never open them again
the poetic mind I bear which never ceases these endless visions
these endless memories I'd rather forget
and never remember
I can't chuckle at the things that point the knife in back
and turns to where I can't run away, paralyzed
I have a fear of drowning
I've mentioned it before
I just want to buy an ocean
and float on my back
float on my back, sail to a distant island
or close my eyes and sink like a feather of lead...
These summer days aren't how these used to be

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