Mail Call

I heard the mail man stop by
I got up and went outside and found
Two other people doing just the same
Now I’m just as boring as everybody else

Sitting here in bed, a tree outside my window
Shafts of light bleeding through leaves, thought it’d be romantic
Well, it’s a tree alright, as am I a human
Going through the motions of something significant

I’m not who I want to be, she’d be mad if she saw me
After decades of bullying and hate, she’d hate to see me sitting here
Sitting in my bed, sitting next to that stupid tree
Chattering about how the mail man affected me

Pretending to be doing something
When a click-clack thoomp! ah must be the mail
Waiting until they leave so they don’t see me
Bills and advertisements for the trash anyways

Why does this mean something to me
Why do we allow ourselves to hurt ourselves
With these thoughts, aren’t we supposed to be stronger
Than we realize, that’s what they keep telling me.

Always waiting for something, always suspended animation
When it strikes we are relieved because the distraction means
Something I suppose, gee, I guess I’m really sad, huh?
Were the other two sad like me or do they just like Ralph’s coupons

They probably pay that mail man shit too

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