The doors beep like an ominous life support we are all just trapped in this large piece of metal hoping to get to wherever we want to wander

When the knife hits the skin
Oh the pain within
The moans aren't alone
They're comforted with raindrops of red
They're puddling onto the floor
Each drop an echoing tap
There's a rhythm now
It has a pulse
Each collective drop , a beat
The sound of death awaiting

So here where are standing
Acting like the adults do
But we are the mere fragments that give them drive
Here we are trying to fill shoes that are already filled
Here we are trying to pick up the pieces but constantly failing
Here we are trying to tie up little laces of small children's shoes
Here we are trying to make a homely environment
Here we are nagging and moaning
Here we are ordering others to do
their chores

Here we are trying to play you

Just disguise the insanity and call it creativity and suddenly people have a new profound respect for you, the trick is hold up the sane facade.

This wandering invigorates my being, my purpose, my existence. I never have a destination. I just wander.