left on read

The ticking of the clock is slower
When a seed is planted by the sower
A seed that will never bloom
This spells doom for the sower
Who feels he’s been passed over
And very soon
He will find his end

What is suicide to a man who never lived?
A lack of closure for a shy and bashful kid
For all of his life
He was forced to play dead
Wanting to joke
He played chicken instead
The bullies told him to beat it
And so he seceded
To the table near the bathroom
Everyone else was platonic
On the topic of Bop-It
They would be consumed
And he would sit in the corner
Thinking like a loner
And do coke in his head

I never grew out of my oddity
But it doesn’t seem to bother me
I’m a body kept alive by chemistry
And an absurdist philosophy
And even though I’ve had a lobotomy
It’s not a thought to me
I press on to see
Whoever it is I’m meant to be