The Walk Home

I once heard that people cut their wrist
to make it easier for hope to leak out of them.

However,
the irony is they always
run out of blood WAY
before they do hope.

So as I sit with misery for company
and a crazy ex-girlfriend named regret
banging on the front door of my memories,
I think to myself that maybe life isn’t so bad,
you know?

I mean its not exactly the
land of milk and honey either,
but maybe one day I’ll somehow miss
walking home with my head down
reading the suicide notes carved into the concrete;
Hearing the whisper of bomb threats that never became promises;
Seeing the wasted talent litter the streets like cigarette butts.

……Nah….I SERIOUSLY doubt it