I Am Poem by William grigas

Smoke tar lungs, and urban sprawl
This isn't who I'm supposed to be at all
Grasping for a fix, trying to make it real
I can't believe you, no I just can't
Junkies on the street
just waiting to meet
You
This isn't me
But it may as well be

Sweeping Landscapes, born free
Of Man
Steaming calderas and lush pines
Fill the air to the brim, I cannot stand the fact
This is something my being lacked
An objective majesty, unbeknownst to man

Wait this isn't the plan
This definitely isn't the man
I am