there are 365 days in a year,
fact.
i have not lived many, i know that... i do
    but if that statement is true,
why do the once breezy summer seconds,
    ones that used to **** by trailed by excitement
now drag with heaviness and bass
    that only concrete wonders could fulfill.
today i thought of you
                            no, i don’t know the day number, although that would’ve been clever.
conclusions have been made in my mind
   distractions do equal a cure, at least what i find
does that make me twisted?
   does it make me just as numb as you?
          i don’t want numb
       i don’t.
i want purpose,
   i crave a life outside my mental                  restrictions which bring self pity,
   i am not you.
i am my own,
i create my story
i am not just a set of pretty eyes
or chestnut tinted bangs
or maybe rosy cheeks with a personality to match.
i do not need a headliner with your name presented as the title.
      i know that now.
so i will stay busy,
condolences
go ahead and take your bow.