Obsolescence

Trading bodies just to be somebody

Feeling up and down like a nobody

In the end I’m just me

Nothing if not un-free

Dancing through the smog of the pretty city

Laughing all the while feeling pretty shitty

Can you read between the lines of my sad story

Or did your eyes glaze over finding me boring

What’s it all about in the end

Finding someone to call a friend

Or true love with hands locked tight

Trying your best not to end in a fight

I’ve got no answers to life’s smallest questions

I’m always open to the very worst of suggestions

We’re all arm chair philosophers after all

So give me your ideas either big or small

I’ll mull it over as I lay wasting away on my death bed

Hoping my good outweighs what I shouldn’t have said

-CL Fuqua