i don't want to live my life without any scars

i am so tired of laying awake, wondering where i could be if i was someone else. insomnia steals from me as thoughts drift between delusions of grandeur and suburban development. everything in this neighborhood is familiar and i am just another restless soul among the thousands marching toward death with open arms. their faces, expressionless and their eyelids, fastened over their eyes. i already met the humble servant of man, we exchanged glances on the busy street corner. i have seen it all and have come face to face with the revolution, and i'm cold. making a house with broken glass was too hard so i'd rather make myself at home in this cage. i have a perfect view of a cascade of billboards through the bars. potential is such a sharp sword, i choke on every sylable.