There I am

On the crisp cool night
When I didn’t love myself
She was a gunslinger
and he had friends high on the shelf

They left his personality
As the nights were alone
Away from the group he was
Yet he remained broken and hopeful, ever so prone

Heartbreak and melancholy
His emotions were found sadcore
Nobody wants to stay numb
But unlike the others, it wasn’t a chore

Holocene for unaccompanied cellos
Coming naturally from the soul
Inner decisiveness and a broken persona
Blue skies matched his love, taking its toll


©Dawson Lehmann



About dawsoleh

poet. writer. student. hipster. cowboy. friend.
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