I wanna sit on my skateboard alone in the dark
I want to feel like I have something to give again

I often find myself missing the times
that weren't better than what I have right now
I often find myself missing whatever times,
specifically, the ones that aren't right now

But I've never not missed right now,
not missed a moment to shine
I wonder how it was to cry
so often

My scars would look like crocheted stars
if I had any left
Who stole my prisons bars?
I'd like to report a theft

I hate the pressure of open doors,
but i hate people who close them more
Instead, I've tried to melt through the floors
but I have just become sore

A lack of substance, of course
What was I expecting?
A Victory?
Since when
do I know what one looks like?
I'm tasteless, I'm corpse-less
Is this that thing that looms over me
telling me that I'm worhless?