So this is it, then?
Now I am a was, a when?
Another beautiful friend
went belly up when caught
in a life of, ‘let’s pretend'?

Is it too much to ask for,
The simplest things of life?
To be happy, not sappy
over the incriminating remarks?
With hands scrapping along the walls
trying to find the way
out of this consuming dark?

To not rhythm every line
like the thousands before?
To not portray oneself
as a spoiled, perpetual bore?

Have I soured?
Gone beyond the expiration date?
Maybe you've seen my incognito photo
forgotten on some milk carton?

Wax and wane,
no need to explain
why this feeling still lingers
this wall of suffocating pain

So go for a walk
in this semi rural town
past farms, fences, caged animals
Bored truckers passing by
hoping to catch some wandering eyes

Past wrought iron fences
filled with row upon row
of forgotten souls
Hidden away
to keep reality
from hitting us completely

Maybe everything is nothing more
than another means to an end
Always clawing our way up,
acquaintances our stepping stones
Until we are shoved
from the top position
back down to the groveling ground,
feeling no act of contrition

mathiasthom
written 4/10/10