This Is What I Do Poem by Taylor Jones

This is what I do
Don't you?
Leave me out, it's true
That's what I thought she said.
I am emotionally insecure and sure it's fodder for ur muddah
Leave me out, it's all alone
Don't you think it's time by now? Surely now's the time well spent
We'll spend it now then make amends
Later if we have the chance
Lament the days of summer passed
Along like brawny tumbleweeds
The long-blade grass along the house
A shack of shotguns melted curls his neighbor
And her little girls have gone inside and locked their door
Won't be comin' out no more
'Till sun has risen up again and neighbor man has gone to bed
and left the streets alone
for the night at least.