Being a fifth wheel
hurts even worse when I see
who they chose instead.

If I had to say,
you’re a rotten excuse for
a human being.

I search for the night
at the bottom of drinks in
rock-bottom glasses.

Please sing me a song.
I don’t care which one, I just
need to feel again.

The heat of the night,
the rhythm, music, and dance;
passion in my breast.