Stuck in a flat-line
With nothing but a heartbeat to keep me going.
Disgust.
Regret.
But I can't stop looking in the mirror.

The grey looms over the horizon;
what a treacherous fantasy
to chase the stars.
The music doesn't sound the same
and this dingy road continues on and on.

That plateau fading from view
seems to call to me,
begging me to reminisce
and accept that the view may never get any better.

Stuck in a flat-line
but my heart isn't in it anymore.
A labor of love becomes an ordinary labor
once the passion slips away.