Maybe my family remembers,
but who can withstand the gloom?
And so, I find myself alone again
in this familiar padded room
Double portions at breakfast
Served in styrofoam with
cold, unsweetened tea..
There's nothing on the TV
so I write poems on the wall
And if all else fails, the chemicals
might help to embrace the fall,
but I guess I'd rather spiral
if it makes me feel
a little more like me..
And at night, my thoughts are racing
Shady deals, extinguished flames,
and the times under a streetlight
playing codependent games
I'm a slave to what's familiar..
though nothing seems to
ever stay the same.
I know what they're going to say
I know what they want to hear
I know the tone of their frustration
After 5 or 6 times this year
and for me it's all familiar,
but most of these people barely
know my name.
A slave to what's familiar