You cry
You never cried before
Now it’s a thing you can remember how to do
One of the few threads left
This sadness
That it’s become this way
You’ve become this way
The pattern of your life is
Not
a pattern
anymore
You are not sure why you are here
Or when
You always joked about losing your mind
Take me out side you said
With a shotgun you said
Take me to the lake you said
But there is not a lake deep enough for this loss
And I don’t have the mettle to take you there even if it there was
And where are we going to get a shotgun from?
This ain’t America
thank god
and if I did find one
from some farmer perhaps
how would I even find the words
to remind you every few minutes
Why I am asking you to turn around
While I point a shotgun
at your head.
