Days [-ze]

It's 11 a.m. and I'm late for school again.
Broken pattern, broken determination
I can try flying, but I fall in my car seat.
The realism is the butterfly cigarette in betwixt my lips.
They call it a jet black new year and count to ten

1, 2, 3 -- You and I were meant to be

The day has peaked and now I acknowledge my growling stomach:
Sh, sh, darling, sustenance is calories
And evil takes many forms.
Light up and stare at the malnourished road ahead.

4, 5, 6 -- Losing the joy in my detrimental kicks

I can't plead the cold sun to stay when dinner passes
Anyone can taste the winter and their eyes are flickering.
Maybe it's overrated; maybe I'm gasping...

7, 8, 9 -- I know the golden solace is not mine

Nightfall is beautiful in its frozen form
When my story cannot shy from the storm.

10 -- .