Date Written: 19 May 2016
I wear this cloud above my head again
Wondering who, what, where, and what I did
to make you think that I’m some white carpet
To clean your muddy feet with
I hold this smile, glue it on my mask at the surface
Just to make it through this point in my life
Where I feel I have no true purpose
That I am totally, utterly useless
I wonder what I did to deserve this?
Maybe it was when I became a liar
Or maybe it was the start of me slowly losing friends
One by one, they moved states or dropped a few things;
A muddy carpet and some excess garbage they didn’t want to deal with
They threw them together, some without a garbage bag
Letting the overwhelming, battered magazines thought as newspapers spew all over the carpet
So now the carpet can’t even deal with its own crap; its own garbage
So instead the carpet, messy, slimy, and grimy, finds some thin bottles
Worn down over past use and fills them each with a piece of trash of the carpet’s own
Because the brown black and grey muck soil the white coloring of this floor fur
Corrupting the carpet while the corroded darken it more
And no matter how much baking soda or cleaning supplies is used by the humans who care,
The root of the dirt is dulled, but still there
I wear this cloud above my head again
Wondering who, what, where, and what I did
to make you think that I’m some white carpet
To clean your muddy feet with