An Endless Page

There is a chair sitting next to me.

Just sitting there, mockingly, wishing to be free.

As I stare, I grow depressed, wary, and hopeless.

‘Cause these days everything I do’s a mess.

There is a clock hanging next to me.

Just hanging there, annoyingly, wishing to be free.

The arms tick and tock and worry about the next hour.

As I sit in longing as my brain devours.

My thoughts, my mind, my soul, my being.

Everything at once comes through in a loud ringing.

There is a face staring back at me.

Just looking there, stupidly, wishing to be free.

With light eyes and brown hair and light skin.

And all she ever wants is it to be easy again.

It’s tears and scars and a helpless thought.

That this world can be what it was, and not bought.