all around, pictures of craters
with crooked necks and teeth
hands glued to glass
sweaty palms gaping through windows
walk slow with cement for feet
straight cautious steps
paperweights taking up space
littering sidewalks and streets
still so empty
boy you wanted to see everything from above
and you can't picture it any other way
now you're fastened to the ground stuck looking up
and you can't help but feel like you've been misplaced
your life's not half bad
shouldn't you be thankful for that
that it's only half
time has passed but you're still the same
pushing it aside waiting till it's too late
forgetting faces, making this one count
turn for the worst, won't turn it around
this life is finite, it's days are numbered
was it something less than intended
you'll figure it out along the way
this life is finite
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