Sick of the Sameness of Being

The closets never change their colors.
The walls don't move
The way I want them to
That phone rings, a call I don't want to answer.

My life is the same, always for this long, long while.
Sick of it all, just tired of all of it
For the best I can do is lame, sad, pathetic
In those eyes.

I don't like where this is heading to,
Has been of, and to, for a long time.
Why can't I have what I want?
My sickness is just around the corner.
I await it.