I’m just a bubble boiling over and over again.
But it’s not about me
It’s about the pot.
How it condenses and heats.
Pushes me to the brink
Until everything inside is gone.
Your hot air and artificial nature
Make the world a worse place.
But no matter how much we put in
we all become mixed together
And as we mix we boil
Strike at each other and
try our hardest to get out.
The ones that do leave aren’t themselves anyone
Changed to steam
A new state, dead, different.
The pot never stays full in the end.
No one stays the same in the end.