Here i am.
On my roof.
Thinking.
Thinking.
My eyes have seen no sleep.
They're red. And they're tired of doing the same thing.
Blinking.
Blinking.
I saw that man jump from his roof when i was six.
The sound of his body hitting the floor,
was the sound of my drum when i hit it with a stick.
Oh mother, your son is sick.
My drink was finished.
I walked back to my chair,
but the crates were empty.
My thirst had come back.
I cursed.
I screamed fuck you to myself.
The thoughts had returned.
I climbed the edge of my roof,
and looked down.
That man who jumped when i was six was still there.
I knew i had to join him. He was lonely.
And so i jumped,
before i hit the ground,
I knew what would happen to my family.
They would cry.
They would cry some more.
Then they would stay up late,
thinking.
Thinking.
YOU ARE READING
High Off These Thoughts
PoetryI overthink a lot. I think at some point in life, we all do. This work tells you about deep thoughts and happenings that continue to exist daily, all told in the first person narative. These poems are written in freeverse, and are designed to make t...
