I’m smoking so I feel better I’m smoking so I can exist But it doesn’t make me feel like it used too It doesn’t make me feel alive It makes me feel ok I wish I was alive I want that spark in my eye But my eyes only get red Is that what they mean When they see I see red I don’t think I see color anymore It’s all just grey It’s been grey for a long time But when I smoked I could see again Not anymore Now it’s just red and grey Every day The same colors There is no blue sky The grass isn’t greener on the other side Because the grass isn’t green at all I just see grey
The days blend together with nothing in between Not even sure if this counts as poetry as much as it is just my rambling thought.