Eight Minutes

Eight minutes to just quickly say
everything that's running circles in my head

I'm not exactly excited about wedding after wedding
I don't see fulfillment in reaching the same goals
I don't want to follow just to be in touch
But I still miss them all, all the same

I hate that I'm an angry person
I hate that what I got from him was that
This boiled and concentrated pit of black
that only explodes in the confines of home

I'm frustrated with not having the things I want
and knowing that some of them are things I actually need
I look around and grow crazy with frustration
and yet can't lift a thumb in movement

I hate being lazy
I hate being cash-strapped
I hate being a different version of me

My mind wants to run back almost 15 years
My body ran forward almost 20
I do not see me in me

My eight minutes are up