[Poem] These are the last blues I’m ever going to have

A mind is never quiet. At least,
Mine isn’t. It makes sleep elusive,
Inner peace moreso. I’m great
At starting, or, even, starting over.
But inevitably you’ll tire of it.
The bravado, the tortured looks, the hopeful voice, and those restless nights.
The look in your eye,
Will fade to black.
Much like I do.
In the end,
You’ll see I’m always a stitch away from making it,
And a scar away from falling apart.