Curbside Blues

I look down at my sneakers,

Covered in rust-

Thinking about people,

Who never give up.

As the hum of the engines,

On pavement at night,

Seem to roll to and fro,

On roads out of sight.

Can't believe I'm here,

In this evening wind.

Yet I'm always waiting,

For this all to end.

Pampered by the,

Love I get.

All from one,

Very special kid.

This feeling's exotic;

Thankfulness.

Almost always lost,

In the emptiness.

Fireflies blaze;

I notice their patterns.

Fading out like,

A symphony of lanterns.

Something insignificant,

Burned into my psyche.

Making me believe,

In things that might be.

Thinking how the sunrays,

Chase the shadows.

And just how different,

My future might go.

Always believed I cried,

Black tar and acid.

My body's made,

Of meat gone rancid.

I have a war on my mind,

Like a foreign estate.

I fire the ammo,

I help to create. 

Pavement peeks between,

My laces,

As my hazy,

Mind races.

Flagging down thoughts,

That hold the truth.

Sitting alone,

With my curbside blues.