Cut your hair,
change your name.
Get a fake ID
and move to South Dakota.
That's fine, that's cool,
it's better for the both of us.
You don't want to stay
where all your friends are.
You don't want to stay
where people know you
as you are.
And some part of me
wants to change myself, too.
Some part of me
tells me to leave this
stupid fucking town
and never look back.
But I'll stay, and you'll go.
It's always been that way.
Glad nothing's really changed.
YOU ARE READING
undone - a poetry book
Poetrypoems. about death. about love. although i was never really sure there was that much of a difference there. for is it not true that when we die we are loved more?
