Used

When the rust finds a home

My aching neck will finally snap

Purpose is an assumption

That puts weight on my broken back

Thoughts expire

As we melt into spring

I didn’t notice the sky open 

Maybe

I did

But I hated it for lighting up

All the things I’ll never be

All the things I’ll never see

All the voices I’ll never hear

In the end we were simply facilitators to the creation of the end

We were all being used

So stick that in your eye

When you are shaking your lovely little finger 

At all I failed to do

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