Thickly On The Floor Poem by Gabriel Crow

Cars, drive me by,
I mean drive by me.
I think.
I'm not really sure.

I sit, thickly on the floor,
waiting for a stranger to knock on the door.
The radio spits lies that hold the truth,
numbing the brains of the forgotten youth.

Birds, fly me by,
I mean fly by me.
I think.
I'm not really sure.

No more will i sit, thickly, on the floor,
Wanting my life to be much more.
Or so much less.
The telavangelest yells at me and millions.
Telling me that money can bless.

Life walks me by,
I mean walks by me.
Stops.
Knocks.
And,
I sit, thickly on the floor,
Waiting for the End