Feb 2020
Bus stops
Train stations
Awkward social gatherings
As cringy as family reunions you’re forced to go to
Except nobody has the embarrassing stories
That you hate to love to hear
Gas stations
That broken down 7-11 on the corner block
That has always been there
Where each stranger is as...strange as the next
The lunch line at school
Where you pass by those same old, soulful eyes
That have watched you since the first day of school
With the wild hair and stubby little fingers
That have watched a thousand broken promises pass by
Airports!
Airports where you are given the privilege to witness
The curious-as-can-be toddlers
With limitless imaginations
Not a care in the world, despite mom and dad always fighting
They don’t care
They’re still roaming around in their own universe
Running in circles with their arms spread out
No, sorry
With their wings extended out
So close to flying, just like the planes outside
They’re the same metal cages
Except nobody has told them that they’re not supposed to fly
Yet
In the passionate air guitarists
The professional lip syncers in the bathroom mirror reflection
And the truly skilled piano rockstars
That don’t quite exist yet
In the hopeless poet
Filling up pages
Like the ****** addict
Pushes in the needle
Both unaware of their coming demise
For just as there are those who overdose
The poet will eventually run out of ink
They will both search frantically before dropping to their knees
And the only thing left to clean up
Will be the diseased needles and ripped pages of scribbled nonsense
Sorry for the shoutout
In the teenage boy
Struggling to face his depression
Because he’s told to “be a man!”
In the teenage girl
Struggling to face her depression
Because she’s told “it’s all in your head, you’re overreacting”
In the teenage them/they/theirs
Struggling to face their depression
Because they know who they are
It’s the rest of the world that’s confused
So they’re not allowed to be themselves
Alice in Wonderland made more sense
All three are struggling to tame the uncontrollable thoughts
Criticized by the close minded Twitter posts and careless comments
All three are struggling to fight the daily battle
To ignore
To break through their ceilings
And finally have a chance at reaching through to the heavens
Desperate to escape this hell
Designed by those surrounding the warriors
Except they’ve just punched a whole through the roof of their coffin
And the small space is now filled to the brim with dirt
Suffocated
By the uncontrollable thoughts
Like Harvey on Huston
Except these three aren’t “Huston Strong”
They aren’t going to emerge from the dirt
Warriors once more
I’m sorry that I wasn’t there
In all those
Who get goosebumps when listening to a song
That they can feel is from another lifetime,
And who know that their adjective “weird”
Isn’t an insult
It’s a brand of respect,
Your see it
The Lost Ones
Each singing a soundtrack to their life
That they desperately wish they wrote
Yeah, you-----J.M.
Train stations
Awkward social gatherings
As cringy as family reunions you’re forced to go to
Except nobody has the embarrassing stories
That you hate to love to hear
Gas stations
That broken down 7-11 on the corner block
That has always been there
Where each stranger is as...strange as the next
The lunch line at school
Where you pass by those same old, soulful eyes
That have watched you since the first day of school
With the wild hair and stubby little fingers
That have watched a thousand broken promises pass by
Airports!
Airports where you are given the privilege to witness
The curious-as-can-be toddlers
With limitless imaginations
Not a care in the world, despite mom and dad always fighting
They don’t care
They’re still roaming around in their own universe
Running in circles with their arms spread out
No, sorry
With their wings extended out
So close to flying, just like the planes outside
They’re the same metal cages
Except nobody has told them that they’re not supposed to fly
Yet
In the passionate air guitarists
The professional lip syncers in the bathroom mirror reflection
And the truly skilled piano rockstars
That don’t quite exist yet
In the hopeless poet
Filling up pages
Like the ****** addict
Pushes in the needle
Both unaware of their coming demise
For just as there are those who overdose
The poet will eventually run out of ink
They will both search frantically before dropping to their knees
And the only thing left to clean up
Will be the diseased needles and ripped pages of scribbled nonsense
Sorry for the shoutout
In the teenage boy
Struggling to face his depression
Because he’s told to “be a man!”
In the teenage girl
Struggling to face her depression
Because she’s told “it’s all in your head, you’re overreacting”
In the teenage them/they/theirs
Struggling to face their depression
Because they know who they are
It’s the rest of the world that’s confused
So they’re not allowed to be themselves
Alice in Wonderland made more sense
All three are struggling to tame the uncontrollable thoughts
Criticized by the close minded Twitter posts and careless comments
All three are struggling to fight the daily battle
To ignore
To break through their ceilings
And finally have a chance at reaching through to the heavens
Desperate to escape this hell
Designed by those surrounding the warriors
Except they’ve just punched a whole through the roof of their coffin
And the small space is now filled to the brim with dirt
Suffocated
By the uncontrollable thoughts
Like Harvey on Huston
Except these three aren’t “Huston Strong”
They aren’t going to emerge from the dirt
Warriors once more
I’m sorry that I wasn’t there
In all those
Who get goosebumps when listening to a song
That they can feel is from another lifetime,
And who know that their adjective “weird”
Isn’t an insult
It’s a brand of respect,
Your see it
The Lost Ones
Each singing a soundtrack to their life
That they desperately wish they wrote
Yeah, you-----J.M.
