You operate in the interstitial space
Seeing every wrinkle on your face
And then you notice the quicksand
And the chains and the locks
Has it always been like this?
Sometimes it’s too quiet
And you wonder where everyone is at
What does their happiness look like?
Do they lay awake at night and wonder why?
They seem to have it figured out, without a doubt
Grinning all the way to the grave with a long list of accomplishments
But here you are and it doesn’t seem so bad
But joy is a myth like Icarus
And you crash into the depths of melancholy
The only place that feels normal
Onto the next distraction
And then and then and then and then
Awaiting for the end or the beginning Is there a difference?
Is there a reprieve?
Tell me your lies and I’ll tell you mine
Everything is gravy, all is fine
Tell me your hopes and I’ll share mine
But you rack your brain waiting for a sign
If this is it then what is the point?
You thought others were selfish, how could they leave
When so many loved them?
How can you feel lonely with so many friends
Yet you are not here and nobody has noticed
The ghost is free to come and go If you end it, you’ll surely know
Yet all the love in the world won’t change
A heart that only lives in the inbetween