Intro: Ennui

I try to write about things that matter

But mostly I just write about boys

I cry when I do the thing

I always knew would be the wrong choice

I beg to be taken seriously

From the floor of a shoebox sized room

And in spite of it all, I still believe

That the dream I wish could come true

I want everything, and by everything

I mean five different, contradicting futures

I want every spring so bad

I spend winters making cuts with no sutures

I don't do much

For the good of my fellow man or woman

I'm not sure that I believe

That I'm doing the best that I can