This leaving means nothing to some
And everything
For me.

Its not a matter of missing or
Loving
Or the sorrow that sits in the pit
Of your guts and waits
To break out.

Life happens while I sit
Still
And obsolete.

No longer the wanted one
And
Haven’t been
For years basically
But that’s what life delivers
In between the cracks of progress.

We mirror our culture:
Bored with everything
Constantly needing the new
Never wanting to sit and wait
Or taking the time to explore the familiar,
And that’s modern love.

Worthless
Broken
And idling at the curb with
no chance of salvation.

Nobody picks up the strays,
They find their way to the
Trash
And we continue moving forward
Even the trash.

Some lives were not meant for glory
And some are
Meant for much less
But we live all the same.