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Nov 2020
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.
Poetry of the unstable
Written by
Poetry of the unstable  20/F/Nashville
   Justin Spence
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