I’m crazy for fifteen minutes a day,
but the scars it leaves won’t fade away.
I can’t rewind, I can’t undo,
I can’t wake tomorrow, pure and new.
Bad choices always seem to last,
relics from a tireless past.
“Put the past behind you,” they all say,
like I can just set it all aside.
No, I carved my history into skin and bone,
and there it still resides.
It’s one step forward and two steps back,
dive into the trenches and wait for the attack.
But there are no bombs, no danger, no fire,
just waiting patiently to expire.
If life is so empty, so pointless and bare,
what’s the point of even being there?
“Life is full of meaning,” they all say,
like I never bothered to open my eyes.
No, I just never found the joy
in waiting for the sun to rise.