Lost Soul

It is a pattern
Your daily routine
Its like a machine
at an assembly line.

You get to the place
that hypnotizes you,
eight hours a day and
they wonder why kids are loopy.

You head home and
the bus coughs a dirty
white steam. You intake alot
of the smoke as well other things.

Everybody sees you as a loud kid
And wonder whats wrong with you,
Maybe there is pain and talking
Is the only way to make it go away.

He lays down and thinks hard
About the day. What will this do,
What will any of it do?
He goes to sleep and never wakes up.

Inspired by Richard Cory

Destry Mays 3rd Period