It's always been strange for me
when the car in front of mine slows,
blinker on in the middle of an otherwise still street,
And I watch it turn off into a driveway

I am overcome by a rush of nostalgia
as I realize that, for that one car, for those people,
the house connected to that driveway, that I haven't even taken the time to look at,
To them, that house is home.

I need to stop talking to you.

Because I tell the truth?

Because...

**Because you know everything I say is spot on. Because you don't like what you hear. Because you want to die, the only issue is that a bullet is too simple.