The Fruits of May’s Productivity

No matter how many times I run through my lines
Over and over again in my head,
I can’t even ever get anything said.
I can’t figure out why I feel so bad all the time.
Why everything makes me angry or upset and gets me telling lies,
But all the same, I don’t feel anything,
And I’m just going through the motions in a daze.
Summer makes me see things with a hazy kind of glow.
The days go by oh-so-slow.

I get like this so often.
I just wish I would be left alone,
But the second I draw away from the crowd,
Everyone questions what’s wrong.

I’m not supposed to be vague.
I’m supposed to be an open book
With an empty head and good looks.
You were supposed to help me,
But I still feel helpless,
Though I have a lot of hope.
I don’t do it on purpose,
But it comes more naturally this way,
To keep things to myself like this.

I’ve been bleeding so much out,
I feel like if I don’t close me off,
There’s going to be nothing left inside.
I need to hold on to some sort of emotion.
Empty is the most horrible feeling I’ve felt.

Soft sounds and solid apologies;
I’m sorry for doing this again and again.
I’m as sick of it as I’m sure you are.
This is driving me mad, I swear it.
I hate all the back-and-forth,
But that’s all it’s ever been.
We need some stability,
And nobody’s going to hand it to us on a silver platter,
So I have to go out and make it happen on my own.

I’d kill for a life of leisure suits and lounge music,
And today, even an iced latte would merit a murder scene.
The middle of May and the dog days of summer are already here;
I’ll wait out on the porch, wishing you were, too.

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