I want to feel an emotion that's not there,
Some kind of empowerment like you'd hear in an indie song.
I want to feel like someone who can do anything,
I want to feel like I can fly
But there's only my lead feet holding me to the ground,
I won't ever reach the high blue.
And that's okay because some people are meant to stay where they are, right?
I'll never see those baby blues again and that's okay,
Because those baby blues turned into a dull gray,
Dominated by wide black traps
And all the colors of the sky cannot enter them.
I'll never hold those rough hands again but that's alright because they're meant to hold a burning pipe of thick, sweet smoke.
They're meant to work and grip and live a life never meant for them.
I'll never feel that warmth again because it's not there, is it?
It's been long replaced by a hatred for something that you could not control.
Where were we so many years ago?
This poem is a mess, and I apologise.