Title Below (not to be taken seriously)

Anybody Could Take My Place, and They Often Do (But That's Alright) 

All of these human hopes and longings are not enough to clothe me

And won't stick, won't stay. 

All of these human concepts fall, 

Fluttering to the ground, 

Skin flaking off, 

Star-stickers from my bones that i and others tried to place there. 

My throat is so dry, 

My skeleton so jagged, 

How can I care when I'm permanently stuck one second in the future?