understanding sentiment
always smoking pot
by the back door
sometimes with people
but mostly myself
and it smells like
loneliness
in the simplest way
and there’s always
people here
but not for me
it tastes like
dreaming
of under achieving
and drinking
too much
it looks like
a tired out
nineteen year old
writing about
emptiness
with a cloud
of smoke for
company
This poem is about:
Me