Jail

Elisabeth's bust in the park
I don't want to be here.
The night falls way too early
I don't want to be here.
The pool filter will suck me in
I don't want to be here.

I don't want to be here
I see nothing different
From every day, every moment
I don't want to be here

Nothing you give me will cure me.
Nothing you are will move me.
Nothing you are matters to me.

I keep on coming back
And it feels like torture
I keep on coming back
And I gain nothing from it
I keep on coming back
And memories are bleak
I keep on coming back
Knowing this is not it.

I get out to greet the sunrise
And all I see is yards and fields
I am empty.
Is this how it's supposed to be?
Did I grow up?
Did I dream it all?
Is it just me?


The dangers of settling for the second best, in whatever aspect of life. All here. Whatever deserved this much scolding is phonetically similar to the word "jail". And probably good enough for somebody else, but not me.

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