Sick Sad Home Poem by Mark Ruiz

The sky's shot grey, rusting, day by day.
And sunlight seeping through slowly starts to fade.
The roads all around us became an abyssal maze.
The same as my problems spinning me into a haze.
Somehow I find myself through crowds of nothing, nothing
Finds me though when I stand still, it's only when I
Act that's when something finds me cringing, gasping, fighting for existence.
I lay on the streets gazing up at the sky
Who knows if it's morning day, or night. Who cares?
On the street all the cars seem to hover over me.
Even in my self destruction I seem to be obstructin' my fate.
My fate though musn't be death, but it surely isn't life.
I open my eyes, or perhaps they never were.
I open my eyes and there's no one but me.
All the cars empty pods, every person faceless wastes.
I ran, i jogged, sprinted, and skipped.
Useless however because I'm stuck in this hell.
In this grey rusty world with the sunlight fading still,
I'm stuck in this place, my own sick sad home.