What a long week,
A long month, a long year,
Followed by long hours,
And long seconds.

I’ve resorted to selling
All my distractions—
And hell, was I distracted.

Now I sit in diners,
Drinking coffee
After a long night.

My pockets are empty,
But my soul keeps growing.
He’s starting to receive
Hand-me-downs from the public,
A new kind of love.

And I’m slowly
Finding myself.