living in the past,
so dangerous,
riding bicycles
in a lane designed for a bus

find them and apply them
to whatever needs healing
the smile is prone to pain
does not mean it is all feeling

you may think i am ugly
as a person i mean
i mean, i know this face,
it does not fit
but here i sit

somewhere,
the train fell off the tracks
and as i sat by the tracks
some beautiful people
made their way back

that to stand on your own two feet
is a priceless thing
in a world where you are treated as nameless meat

you were no good for me
strip away the naked
strip away the lust
you do not find polished metal

i tried to write a poem
to sum you up
but i could not do the maths
and you are not a selection of lines
no, words are not enough

you cannot judge me,
on who i am
or what i want to be
i live for those around