Maybe we’re all here because we’re not all there
Because we couldn’t turn down the voices in our heads
The room turned too cramped,
And the world too small
Sidewalks became too familiar,
Bed too comfortable.
Our skin began to itch
With the idea of never being able to get out
Joy no longer came,
We constantly sought more
Life moved too fast, yet,
We were never bored
Creativity became sterile
God, what a privilege it is to be bored
Words took no meaning
The only one to mean anything,
Was “run”
Becoming lost,
Was the only way,
To be found
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