Just like the kids living down the street

Just like every dead spot in that neighbourhood

You never liked certain shades of grey

And when everything wasn’t black and white

You isolated yourself in that same spot, day after day

Only enough room for breathing but even that was cramped

And last week you hated everyone

And yesterday they died

So now what have you left?

A breathing spot

An empty page

Your life, countless years comparing it to the kids down the street

Comparing it to every dead spot in your neighbourhood

With no regards to your fully functional heart

Every so often,

Yes, more than that

Things will not be black and white.

That’s life.

And last week you hated everyone

And yesterday they died

So now what have you left?