Maria likes skyscrapers.
She likes to think of jumping off.
Sometimes she says she's dying.
She closes the door on my face,
but I can still hear her weep.
She says she wants to go back to Nashville
where no one looks like Elvis.
She's tired of the life she lives 'round here.
I know where she's coming from,
because I'm ******* tired too.
Everyone is tired of something.
I think I'll pack my bags and leave,
somewhere in the fog I'll disappear.
If angels are still watching me,
they'll begin to realize that I can no longer tell the difference between right and wrong.
Everything, every lie, every rule I've ever learned has taught me about black and white.
Answers are either right or wrong.
People are either lions or sacrificial lambs.
But it's all beginning to look like white on white to me.
This poem is the third in a four poem series that I am writing. The purpose of this poem was to borrow an idea and a story from the work of another person and write my own poem based on it. This poem is tightly based off of "Round Here" by my favorite band The Counting Crows. I have always wanted to do something like this, and now I've probably done it poorly. Adam Duritz could definitely explain "Round Here" better than I could, but this poem is at least a part of what that song means to me.