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 © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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