how does it feel knowing
that this has all been done before
just in different places, with different people?
life is just repetition with
slight adjustments, history repeating
over and over until time ends.
different voices, different kisses,
spending irrelevant time over
things that shouldn't have mattered
that much.

what have i been doing with my life?
i know who i was when i was younger,
full of life, wanting to get out of that
little town, just wanting to travel,
see the world, didn't matter if i had the money.
full of dreams, ready to take on the world
didn't matter what i was told.
what happened to that spark that was
lit inside? been told so many times
that things like that just aren't possible.
memories like a movie reel,
running from the cops at midnight,
losing the smokes in the bushes,
tripping on acid through the park,
breathing in the sunrise behind the apartments,
feeling peaceful.

help me fan the flame that
i know is still inside.