Goodbye again. Another step closer and I think I’m going mentally insane. The struggle is real and I’m starting to feel the pain. Not bitching, I’m just saying. How many times I gotto die and restart just to win this fucking game? The trains come and gone now I’m that lame, left at the platform. Left feet digging into clutch, I’m geared up, but how do you figure I get back on? When I don’t even fucking know what went wrong? When I can’t even stand strong? I got a bag full of plaques, useless facts that I flex. All written in stone, no covering these tracks. Please no pats on the back this isn’t some pity sad song. I let my mind wander for a minute, just to get the slack on. It’s no wonder what they said and they mean, “if you ain’t the boot, you get stepped on”. But what’s the fucking difference when the sole is my soul? Is it dirt I step on? If this is some sick joke I swear it’s fucking airborne. I see hope but it feels like I only grasp straws. I guess I’m that kid who only learns through hands on. But everything he touches, he just tears down. Now my plan’s gone. Said I’d stir it up, make ripples, but the waters stagnant. Said I’d make waves. So here’s waving. Goodbye.
Jon Lau / 9 Oct 2022
ILLiteratepoet 