Can’t you see?

| March 26th, 2016

Can’t you see, Shorty… you’re killing me…

I doubt I’ll see forty.

I’m tired of being a bad father, bad husband, bad lover,

I dream of escape, or the embrace of serenity,

I stare into the waters of eternity,

I wonder why I cannot find myself in your turbidity,

Masking happiness and tragedy, and morbidity,

I tell myself it’s sickness, and I have to be strong,

I propel myself I above your negativity,

But I die a little more each day,

In a small way,

away, away..





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