Lately I’ve been feeling like an insomniac,

doing some of my best work when it’s pitch black.

I wrote you a poem, still waiting on some feedback.

Shoulda realized you’re just a cul de sac;

and i’m a rocket ship,

with no brakes.

Chasing happiness,

with no breaks.

Once flew halfway across the country just to feel heartache,

because I’d rather know than be waiting on a soulmate.

You can call this my soul tape,

hittin’ you softer than a fresh crepe,

with more love than Professor Snape

had for Lily.

Can’t make this shit up, yet you think it’s silly

September almost here and they about to free my brother Milly.

Absolutely dreading the days when it gets chilly,

seasonal depression bound to hit and I’ll probably hibernate

and only come back around March 28th.

I’m gone.



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