Mon, 02/04/2019 - 19:27 -- dowxbeg


The geographical equivalent of tired beige curtains 

Like the ones at your grandma's house

Roses with wilted petals

Their colors evaporated long ago



Like a party at a nursing home

Cheap soda and cold pizza

Downcast eyes

Metal folding chairs and polka music



Abandoned storefronts and cracked cement

Kids walking across the bridge

Wondering what would happen if they jumped



Cigarette smoke and muffled curse words

Sweatpants and UGG boots with holes



Failing grades and boys with bleached hair

Pretending not to care

Maybe they really don't



"Get out if you can," they say

Pointing at the young mothers

And gas station jobs



We tell kids not to bully each other

But look away from the ones with pain in their eyes

So palpable that you could almost touch it



It's different for everyone

Palm trees and sandy beaches

A bustling city

A suburban life with a spouse and children and a dog

I don't know what my paradise is, yet

But this isn't it




This poem is about: 
My community


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741