the streets sit so still

right before the sun rises.

and wanting nothing more

then to fall into that burning star in the sky.

the warmth could kill.

why cant i change?

why cant i throw my hair back

and just go with whatever is thrown my way?

transform me into anything you need me to be

because im beginning not to care.

exploit me

abandon me

and throw these remnants into that burning hole in the sky.

the warmth could kill.

feeling the way the street is

when no cars pass by

and when the cement is so cold

that it almost cracks.