The Awful Thing That Sort of Happened

Stab my problems in the back,
I need to face things with my front.
Walking backwards just pretending
I'm like the people I'm among.

[I stand out when I'm siting down, well, no matter what I do. I chafe against humanity, glow with toxic light, and hope for a stampede.]

I catch myself in my favorite mistake,
that "anything is better than this",
then I look behind me,
to remember how much better it is.

I want to scream off buildings,
I want to kick through walls,
I want chaos,
I want war.

Problems dont come from subconscious reaction,
even when I do nothing,
the bad still happens.

I saw "trapt in lyfe", written on my walls,
All night for weeks,
with a steak knife and a cup of coffee.

Heartbroken,
building the pyramids,
Pile bricks on your back with a knife in your chest,
you should try to get some rest,

Never let them sing you to sleep.
Don't ask me how life kept going,
it still makes no sense to me.

We burn down time and towers,
wasting shine and cloudy showers,
melting sky's and smoking flowers,
we all die in glassy hours.