I cried out to God for answers
While waiting for his reply
I forgot to do some living
'Ere I fell down to die.

Beheld I no great majesty
In wonders he had wrought
But pitied self for circumstance
That time and life had brought

Forbid that I would ever look
Beyond my meager station
And witness those at deeper lows
and show appreciation.

Hence, the twilight of my life
Has come, and shadow's fallen.
At last, across the great divide
I hear His voice is callin'.

Our answers come in all due time
And so little time is given,
So while you wait you might as well
Go do a little living.

Nine to eleven years
dedicated,
frustrated,
overworked,
but loyal,
put time in
at the expense
of family and friends.

Events missed,
but work required
you push yourself.
Till, your stressed,
and oh so tired.
That is the job,
and for every year in
you might get a raise
and some time for vacation.

Forty to eighty plus hours a week;
Eyes blur as you swerve
driving home.

Thud, thud, thud, thud,

The safety treads save the day.
You make it home ok,
kiss your kids goodnight,
and your gone before
they head off to school.

Nine to eleven years
but after the buyout,
I mean after the merger
the main office is moved
and you are let go.

In the holy pursuit
of capitalistic growth
business is righteous.
The free market is god.
Now you have no job
And you find loyalty means squat.

I understand now that I desperately want
to be special

The desire crawls under my skin
to see myself as smarter than others, with better morals, with natural talent for everything I try
shivering it away, it sickens me as much as it soothes
my hollow, childish soul

In a flash, the thought has me petrified
I will die and nothing I can do will mean anything
It attacks and I know
I will never be enough because I am not
special

Maybe that's all the depression is
it slithers around me, slowly suffocating any hope to breathe
mesmerizing me with feelings of uniqueness
you are a sufferer it tells me
and I turn, a passive participant to its ritual

I want to be special
to be loved
and before you tell me that I am, that there's someone here who cares
I know
but I want to be loved by myself

I want what little I am to be enough for myself

Don't worry yourself
think of the exploring you'll do alone
no one to drag you down

alone
alone
the word rings around my head
the most depressing decibel I ever heard.

No one to drag you down because
you have SUCH an imagination
how could this POSSIBLY be a bad thing
look in the dictionary under independant; you're the definition.

definition however
finds no hold in a mind made only of galaxies
the expanse is endless
thought can stretch so thin
I lose the beginning of an idea into space
and end up floating in the quiet vacuum of my head

I needed you
to be
the corners of my mind
a framework
to attach my grandiose ideas and give them meaning
to know
that I am more than just synapses
firing at random  into the dark
that I am a physical being.

I needed you to hinge me to reality,
because otherwise
I am just stardust and matter
trapped in a skull.