Inside
poem by:
Tiana H
Written
on Jul 24, 2017
It’s such a beautiful thing
Your ways,
my ways.
You think differently than I do,
so when you don’t put
down the cancer stick
At 3am and hope that
somewhere in human made
smog in the living room you can find the answer
in life you’ve been waiting for,
Well,
I can’t judge.
I fell asleep on the floor,
after hours of pushing into
books that promised me a future.
But all I got was this lousy pay check,
and an okay brain
good for contemplating every implication
that could come from every statement said
by anyone;
searching for answers when sometimes
I had just had to wait for time.
And I woke up, staring at the smog,
breathing in the stale stench belonging to an
addictive personality,
knowing where exactly the answers were.
They were inside him.
They were inside the girl on the street
in the pink dress.
They were in my manager who likes coffee in the morning.
And they were inside you.
They were inside me.
They were inside.
