"patterns"
this is what my life has been reduced to
looking forward to seeing my cat
after hugging a pretty girl goodbye
googling obscure dylan lines
while smoking, and cursing into the night
i am an abandoned pile of bone and muscle
i swear to whoever
that i glow louder than most
but my instincts drive my choices
and i never make my move
or too soon, i'm always mistaken
but given the choice, i'm not sure i'd do any different
am i as doomed to fate as i'm told
or can i put my fist through the patterns?
and into something bigger, into something brighter?
as i argue with myself
i watch the city shine
and i play the long game
as if i'm sure of the outcome
i'm not, but i sure look good pretending
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