I don’t mean anything to these people
These places
These things
I’ve always been a void filler
A moment passed
A time in their life
But never a solitary figure.
They look at me as disposable
Replaceable.
Compostable.
I try to plant roots
And they get mold
I try to plant roots
And they get cut
I just want stability
But no one seems to want me to stay
So I’ll go again
And again
And again
The hole inside getting bigger, larger, angrier.
I guess I’ll go.. you don’t need me
I guess I’ll go… you all don’t need me
I guess
I’ll
Go
I’m
Not
Needed.