Lines in the road
Fall beneath our toes
Leading us to nowhere
But the end.

Colours in the street
Put us in a spreadsheet
Everyone a simple item
Just waiting to be removed from inventory

Children in school
Hated for not being cool
Hated for being alive
Hate living each day
What they don’t understand
We hate ourselves as well

The lives we live
Are like the sugar remains in a bag of Sour Patch Kids
Useless, just to be thrown out.
Some love it
I hate it

Day after Day
Night after Night
Week after Week
Month after Month
It gets old really quick
I’m already done.