Long lone road
Whenever I’m down the road of self-pity,
and it seems too crowded in my head,
I get to be mocked by this city
that’s neither alive, nor dead.
Its beauty preserved by its smokes
and dreams that never come true
gave hope and then broke every promise
I had ever had from you.
Don’t ask if I’m fine ‘cause I don’t
remember how ‘fine’ feels like.
If only I had a remote
for either my love or my life.
And no, I don’t hate you either,
and I have decided I do not want
either to leave or to live in fear,
so don’t, just don’t…