Who, what, when, where, why? Wind lullaby. 

I seem to be discreetly insecure.

No social scene, so does it even matter anymore?

No rep that needs kept.

No friends to be had.

Just sit here in self-pity.

And feel lonely and sad.

I guess there's nothing to worry about.

So I'll worry about Nothing and what's he's up to today.

And if he'll get it done on time, and if he'll be okay.

This is inner thought.

Working on my morals.

Making everyone as comfortable as possible.

Yet again, I  have put myself last.

Waiting to be picked first.

By someone like me.

Watching cars go by like a movie.

Sitting here like this is a memory.

Its a past ttime.

Yet another hobby, I've collected.

Laying down, center-stage.

Staring up at the trees.

This is a restless serenity.

Just wish that someone would join me.

And experience this chaotic, quiet place.