poetry in green ink
What would you write on your baseball glove
while you were waiting for a final blow?
And would someone break his hands in blood
because of you, because of sorrow?
I think I’d fall in love with any absurd question, but
I know that nobody would ask
I want to sleep so badly and it’s so cold here, I
Remember everything that made me feel alive
But cigarettes still taste like helplessness
And the walls still collapse and fall around me
While others are building new ones in weightlessness
I’m sleeping in ruins, no longer wanting someone to save me.
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inspired by 'The Catcher in the Rye' J. D. Salinger