The grass is greener.

Sitting in a chair,

In a neighbors house,

With people I don’t like.

Last night was terribly lonely.

“I wish I could go somewhere,

With anyone.

Just to leave the house.”

And my request is granted.

But it isn’t worth wishing for.

Is… is this what people do?

Sit and vape and talk vaguely about people I don’t know?

“try to fit in.”

I try.

“No, not like that”

“be social”

I try.

“No, not like that”

I’d like to be on that bus.

Or in that dorm.

Or at that meet.


Give them room,

It’s not your spot to have,

Not your crowd.

I’m not that kinda person.

“You have to ask for what you want”


“No, don’t be pushy.”


I guess I don’t have a place to be.

Maybe this is why I don’t go out.

Maybe this is why.

The grass is always dead and brown when you get close enough to see it.

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