My life has become one
where I'm always in bed
even when I'm not.
My bones are syrup
and I like it that way,
I think to myself.
But I really don't.

I kick at stones and wait
for you to guess why
I haven't come back.
I'm tired of waiting, shouting
and guessing, thinking too
much about why this or that
happens or doesn't happen.
at the riddle I will never solve.
Maybe there's nothing to it,
maybe there is no answer
because there is no question-
maybe that's what I've
been trying to figure out
all this time
But I was afraid to face this
because I thought it would make me
less important.
My childhood tantrums are over,
I'm giving it up, I'm not mad anymore.
I know you can't understand what I mean,
but maybe you can.