Obsolete.

Make me hate myself.

Take me down a couple notches.         

Because ever since I met you,

I’ve been higher than the clouds.

Pull me off the street.

Let the buses roll by.

I swear I didn’t want to die,

I just didn’t want to steal your spotlight anymore.

I’d rather watch the birds slowly fall from heaven

And listen to the thumping of their bodies on my lawn.

Than to see you cry over some curly woman

Who didn’t hold you long enough

To let the dopamine soak in.

There’s no one left to tell me you’re not here.

They all quit their jobs and moved to the cities

We once wished to visit.

I know it doesn’t matter anymore,

But I still make additions to the list.