Shit

The dull grey is not only externally soaked into the atmosphere
It is covering my skin in a thick film of smoke that won't dissolve
And when I inhale I get rewarded with a high only the clouds can reach
I reach and I reach and I can't seem to find the end
But oh how I've tried
And oh I've been denied
Repetitively bringing my fingers to my lips has caused this arthritis of a hate for existence
And you all beg for repentance
The end is always so close and yet so far
Much like the lines of regret in my skin like scars
For once I'd like to breathe the fresh air of a morning of hope
For once I'd like to be proud of this Earth
I'm stuck here in the dirt
Writhing for release
Begging for peace
My release