June 21, 2012 by mpe77
People stacked on top of one another
They walk on top of each other
It’s not worth it,
For all of this crowded space.
And the moments in the doctor’s office
Waiting, easily listening
To these, the songs that got chosen
For serenading death.
It’s enough to never sing:
Until it becomes breathless,
Until you can’t breathe,
Until the crowd of space starts, and shrinks.
And you decide to smoke another cigarette,
Because the rooms already gray,
And the sky is already falling,
And the music reminds you of a child
Sick, and you don’t know why.
Could home be more than a smell and a sound?
I want to know that knowledge more than sighs,
That my heart broke and stayed that way
For a reason, not a why.