Longing
Sitting hurts when your happy
Sickness aches when your stale
Stutters fall flat in the hail
Still, silence emerges the most scrappy
Never was one to take off
Noble and steadfast
Not once did I leave you cast off
And Now yet I’m the one who’s last
This feels like kismet
Though one with no fate
Your gave me to dark burden of hate
Then proclaimed that “this is what I get”
To you I’m a dark comedy
Funny but also sad
A beholder of tradgity and oddity
Only A guilty pleasure to be had
You see those voices on the screen
But I hear them at noon
Telling me I better start begging soon
Or else you’ll be gone with the leaves of green
And those leaves will burn
Then dissipate into a firey ash
The ash will grind as my lungs churn
And those lungs becoming the fire of my match
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