I am not a poet
I don’t know how to use my words the way they can
I can’t captivate the minds of my friends by stringing them along with the simplest of words
I am not a musician
I will never make it in a field
Where those push each other further and further down
To be the next one at the top
There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street—
he barks at anyone that nears,
snarling teeth that glow shiny in the afternoon light.
There’s a dog that sits on the end of my street—
You asked me to stay
As you gazed into the future
Longing once more
I stood in the crowd
My feet cemented to the ground
Just basking in the light of something that would slowly fade
I could hear the high pitched ringing
A reminder of a past days sacrifice
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