I hate this city,
But it's never going to leave me.
And when I walk passed the faded graffiti,
It reminds me of something I'm missing;
Some vibrancy, electricity;
A pulse in my heartbeat.
I hate this city;
But it's never going to leave me.
And maybe I have to be okay with that;
Learn to love the street around each corner;
Because when I'm gone, I won't be back;
And I know nostalgia will torture;
Every ounce of my being;
Each thorn in my side;
This life that I'm living;
Is it really mine?
I can't answer these questions;
They're simply too powerful;
There's no point in stressing;
Not when you know where you'll end up;
On a bus bench, on a real nice beach;
Alive and dead, find and you will seek;
Whatever it is you've been yearning for,
Whoever it is that you're waiting for,
Good is coming, one way or another,
Good is coming, one way or another.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Cut Throat Town
PoesíaA poetry collection about being trapped in a small town, for all the good and all the bad that comes with it. "It would be cannibalism if it wasn't love." 💙
