Yes, I know
It’s really quite hard
I was dealt a bad hand
Nothing written in the cards
And I don’t have a plan
I couldn’t make this up
I couldn’t if I tried
I guess this is the point
That I’m at in my life
I’m batting for first base
And I’m back at square one
Always end up in this place
When I think that I’m done
I’m stuck
Stuck in a rut
Stuck on a ciga-
Cigarette butt
Open and shut,
Sick to my gut,
Stuck like a dirty old,
Dying stray mutt
Stuck in a cut
In my fake plastic skin
Stuck at the part
Where it’s meant to begin
Stuck in my bedroom, I’ve locked myself in
Sit on my bed and I watch my head spin
They’re asking me when
I’m telling them then
They’re asking me when and all over again
They’re asking me when is the time I’ll get better
I tell them the answer is probably never
So stop asking
It’s taxing
Stuck with myself in a backstreet bar,
Stuck in the seat of an old taxi car,
Stuck in my hometown, and say I’ve gone far,
Admire a street lamp, I don’t need a star
Cause I’m loving the feeling of doing nothing at all
Don’t look at me like that, I’m not trying to stall
Clipping my wings I continue to fall
Nothing at all, nothing at, nothing at all
Copyright © Nameless Nothing | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment