People in the street are screaming

Shouting to welcome the New Year

Confetti slowly drifts from the sky

As I sit there, wondering why.

This year won’t be any different

It will always be the same

It’s wrong to think we will find new hope

When it actually creates a steeper slope

I won’t have some great epiphany

Or be more comfortable in my skin

Nothing this year is new

I’m still here without you