Melancholy     

I see people in the mirror
I hear voices around my head
I see a little guy on my shoulder looking at my head
Theres a little heart in my chest looking all red with no set

Round shining dots with no twinkle in the sky
Bees on flowers with pointy needles seeking honey in my mind
Cars of the road never less travelled cause of foot prints there but also... just there

Objects of non creation stationed to not hear
Notes of words never sung
Strings of guitars charging my phone
This is the afterlife of creation breaking the peter of where i am