I sit here in discomfort,
and read poetry out loud to
no one,
just because it feels like talking,
to someone.
And I am eating my dinner
of chicken nuggets made in
the convection oven.
Everything is a mess,
he got no help from the hospital,
which was to be expected.
Those doctors in their white coats,
and pink scrubs,
who wear even whiter shoes,
don't care about your pain,
even if you have the money
to waste eight hours of your life
in their useless rooms.
And I am sitting between a rock
and a hard place,
because making life decisions are
going to be the death of me.
Maybe it's because change has
always been the root of everything
that's made me unhappy:
although I know it's unavoidable.
Life changes every day,
even if it's just the weather,
or the length of your hair.
If only someone could teach me
to not be afraid of the one thing
I can't run from in life.