Over The Garden Wall
The grass is a metaphor
Welcome to Poetry Sunday. The day when I post something cringe, dumb, and mercifully short. This week’s edition is brought to you by dissatisfaction!
There it is
The other side
Fuck, that grass is green
My grass is shit—
Always has been
That last grass was much better
Why did I leave that grass?
This is a different impulse, though
This grass really is untenable
Lifeless
Frozen
I just need to find that fresher stuff
Maybe Kentucky Blue
Or back to Bermuda
These fescues aren't fine enough
I don't have time to plant new seeds
I'm taking over someone else's
They've found even greener pastures themselves
This green rush won't end
No bubble to burst
I'm hopping the fence
Does anyone else just not feel satisfied with where they are at? I want to be able to move around to find out if it’s just me or if it is the places I have lived. If so, commiserate with me in the comments.
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I’m curious to know if we all simply have wanderlust in us that makes us crave what appears to be greener. There’s definitely been times where this has hit me, so, is it dissatisfaction or something more?