Holes

We’ve all got holes, busted soles On the mend or waiting for the end I’ve been burned, slowly churned Played like a ballad, tossed like a salad Too many times I looked for rhymes Words with no meaning, thoughts with no feeling What it might be I can’t see Blind interest, hoping for the best What happened to me should not be I was hypnotized by those who sympathized Alone on a shelf, I’m by myself Road to recovery or is it discovery When it’s all done maybe I’ve won What nobody wants, to be in front Of the line to nowhere, with people who don’t care Both are friendless, both are endless I’ve got holes, a busted sole Near the end or on the mend