are roses even all that great anyway

A Poem by darkmoose

so angsty

cigarette smoke like a storm cloud

hangs over his head like that cloud cartoon characters get when they're mad, sad, angry, not the way they want to be

and he's thinking, why can't i just stop and smell the roses to see if they're all really as great as everyone says they are and why is it that when i look up at the moon i don't see a man but a million dead meteors stopped in their tracks by a big stupid chunk of cosmic

rock.

and he's thinking, why can't i see the fireflies at night and why is it that so many sad songs seem like they were written

just

for

me.

wondering at night, how do plants make their flowers and is the sea bottomless? where do birds go when they die and who keeps the song? does the music ever

stop.

and he's thinking, tomorrow i'm going to climb a tree, pet a dog, stop and smell those goddamned roses for once in my life. i hope the music doesn't

stop.