Honey Bun Horizons

Blind smiles and rising tides weigh a ton,

These days can barely even stand to look for fun.

Thoughts of clout curse success with trauma,

Everyday answers feeling more like problems.

 

Temples today pressed with guns,

I wish I could say, “I think Flint will get undone,”

That our horizons didn’t look dark, miserable and un-fun,

Like digesting a Honey Bun.

 

Usually try to keep my eyes open in defiance,

But lately they’ve been leaving my heart beepin’ and cryin’.

I think a lot about all of us dying,

No goodbyes to leave, just beds to lie in.

◊ ◊ ◊

Photo by Elijah O’Donnell

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