Pink sky, grey clouds
Rain fell in pastel
Long day, long drive
Brain dead, still alive
Lie down, face up
Dead set to collect dust
Useless, I'll bet
If not for my skill set

Longing, tension
I have dimension
I'm outside. It makes me static
Do I take the blame for the times I shatter?
If it ends the same do the means even matter?

Come down? Can I?
Without it, what am I?
Hollow? Empath?
I'm reading my forecast:
Hungry, burnout
Washup, sellout
It's only one thing
I need to mean something

But if you ask me I'm fine