There are times that come 
and times that go
phases and stages 
of strangness 
and here we are
thrown to and fro 
by some invisble hand
but im quite convinced 
the world is doing alright
without me! 
without you! 
without us, 
whats the point?
i think i missed it 
and in the end 
i know ill still 
be standing here
or there
or somewhere
missing me, 
missing you, 
missing people
missing life...
now is when
i miss innocence, 
though its far behind
im sick of talking
im sick of loss
im sick of my own pathetic poems
im sicked most of missing you
and maybe just maybe
im sick of being sick too
but mostly
i just wish things
could be the way
they never were
nor ever could be
because to me you see
its how i am
and i think
im sick of that too