i woke up around two o clock
& out came the words that i'd like to outgrow
"well, this day's almost done
guess i'll try again tomorrow"
i'll make myself some coffee
& maybe try & write a song
to sing to myself about how it feels
like everything just feels wrong
& it's not getting better
guess it's not really gotten worse
instead of making myself ruminate on my defeats
i should start to rehearse
my thank you's & my
today is going fine for the same
cashiers at the cafes & the liquor stores
i hope they never remember my name
i'll sit & watch the sky turn
from its neglected cigarette smoke grey
to black to match these tattered shoes
in which i'll one day walk away
maybe it'll be tomorrow
maybe i'll give it one more year
maybe i just haven't found enough places to hide
the same incorrigible fears
maybe one day these cold fingertips
will surrender their grip
from my shoulders & i'll be
more than a few thousand pieces on the ground
& i'll sing rejoice
the war is over
but for now tomorrow is just one more day
to hide behind locked doors & under your sheets
try your best to muster up the strength
to wander through these city streets
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