Last Poem to Carlie.
I won’t lie, Carlie.
I’ve been thinking of death a lot.
Not killing myself to be free,
But this stress doesn’t seem natural.
I need to get out on the sea
And smoke cigarettes until my lungs give out.
My vision has been clogged and I can see.
I need to drive across the states
And get some time to breathe.
Why do I need to be successful?
Can’t I just forget about home and be free?
The weather is too fucking cold.
I can’t stay here and be happy.
This town is too fucking old.
I’m not looking for a purpose anymore, Carlie.
I just want to go through life and just be.
That’s all I really need.
Maybe then I’ll feel okay.
Maybe I just need some time to just be.