Six Feet

sweet, sweet suburbia
I’ll miss your picket fences
the angry kid inside of me
has forgone all defenses
in acceptance of a different place
where I’ll adopt a different name
cry for me, my grave is dug
but go and dig another one
we can bury all of our personas
hyper fixation, color me hopeless

sweet, sweet oblivions
I’ll miss your soft unknowing
the obtuse, blinding side of me
it always ends up showing
it’s face in places better left
alone unless provoked or lest
be told in such a stark contrast
I suppose I know at last
little omissions can be so innocent
two heads to rub together but no sense

Reviews

[MyPoeticDiary]

Quick grammar correction: The fifth line of the second part, it should be its and not it's. Anyway, this is a good poem. This seems to be a farewell missive to childhood, the child in you, and naiveness. It reminds me the notion of how there are different versions of ourselves, especially in the mind of others. I like. Good work.

[Katie Kistler]

Oh, thank you! Good catch 😄 Auto-correct is not always correct, I suppose. And yes, that’s exactly what I was going for; just the changing of places and how it allows you to rebuild yourself a little bit. Even interacting with new people. The constant reinvention I think we all go through on almost a daily basis is really interesting to me.