5 Cents.

Not enough
I am a glass half-filled
I am a plate unfinished
I am letters in a drawer that remain forever unsent
I am friendships that do not last

Not enough
When the moon has sunken, and my feet still callus over the floor's rough marble
My hands still wilt over cutlery, or blades that cannot stop cutting
My eyelids kissing over and over again, begging to make love to sleep
I hear the torment of the hours that pass too quickly
This will not matter come sunrise
This will not matter come success
For me: I do not quite know success
Only battered breaths, and bruised fingertips, and a slouching chair that swallows me in
This is the only best that I may get

It's been too long that I forget how it feels for my spine to rest upon blankets again
It's been too long since I managed a smile
I have dug graves and tunnels for my arrival here
The warmth of the open air draws a deep sigh
But still, it is not enough
The words of those that share something so unrequited blare in my ears
How my whisper of forgiveness is whipped at with anger
Pleads of this slave's need murmurs under the numbness of my tongue

I was built as with any other man, with arms, and muscles, and veins
A head that will not stop thinking, eyes that will not stop blinking
I am no different from those I see outside the windows of me

But I am not enough
I am an image that hasn't quite finished loading
The unread page that is stuck to its paperback end
I am the lost 5 cent coin from everyone's torn pockets
I am only shattered glass that cannot be puzzled together
Parts of me lie dangling desperately onto the sharp edges of my yesterdays
Clung to tree branches, or molding picket fences

Sometimes I'd like to think that this wasn't how I was made
Only a result of being careless and immature to the ups and downs of the world
That maybe I had already given away too much
And I am now left with not enough more to give.