My town.
a lonely place
full of the drunk
and the depressed

the fat belcher
coming home from the bar
at 11pm
rambling nonsense and nothings
to the moon and stars
because no one ever listens anymore

teenagers walking
down cobbled streets
at midnight
thinking about how easy
it would be to disappear
because no one misses them yet

the party-hards
blaring music through windows
at 1 in the morning
to distract themselves
from the monsters in their head
because the sound is an antidote

and the observers, like me
who sit and watch
at every hour of every night
and see the nooks and crevices
in this broken little town
and here we sit
typing away our little report
of the drunk and the depressed

we're not like them, no.
we can't be.
not in this
lonely
little
town.