The sky is falling—
ashes in slow motion,
raining smoke laced with doubt.
I’m trying to figure things out – trapped inside
of my mind, trying to map a way out.
Time wears you down like a borrowed face.
Money races laps around your mind—
and we’re all so deeply
invested in the chase.
I think locomotive thoughts—
every train of thought heavier than the last—
but somehow, I keep losing track of time.
But what is time,
if not something that’s never mine?
We spend every second like a dime—
but not every moment
is worth the time.
I dress up for someone else’s moment,
tailor my soul to suit their life—
wearing joy like it’s rented, hoping the fit feels right.
Every mistake I remember from yesterday
becomes a brushstroke in the picture I paint today—
a portrait of someone better
hanging up in my frame of mind.
And maybe, just maybe,
there lies the real way
to fit in.
