I could worry about the little things
The little things that don't matter
The material things
The things nobody but myself sees
I could live in the past
Or the future
Or anything but the present
And I could be mad about where I am right now
As if everyone else I know
Isn't in a different place than me
And I could wish to be you
But maybe it's not trying to be you
It's trying to be anyone else but me
You asked me to stay
As you gazed into the future
Longing once more
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 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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