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