I meant to sleep tonight, but then today happened
so i thought i would make something profound of if in a poem
but my nostalgia for someone else's childhood
and a dream that may be taken away
doesn't make much of a lullaby now

I'm both leaving and staying
maybe getting halfway there and stopping
maybe i can inch just close enough
for a hand that can pull me through
but for all my disdain of boundaries
my own fences are bleeding me

i am not authentic
only pieced together
from all I stole from you
and the others
even the dreams i have borrowed
in my playing at sincerity

does anyone have a little hope they can spare?
because i'm not enough of a politician
to manufacture sympathy for my own cause

i could always use a little love
and someone to hold me, just hold me