Poem #5

The autumn smells of failed attempt,
As it always does,
My body rots on the bare mattress without a bedframe,
I was unable to build it - same way as my life.

I forgot to count them,
As I reached more than my age when I was ten,
I am a coward - same as I was back then,
And I tend to run away - not solving any problem.

The fall is when I lose my mind,
The fall tastes of my first cigarette, 
Broken promises, the darkness and all I wish to forget,
The glass which cut my leg when I kept running away from home.

The autumn smells of death,
Nice pair of arms which I wish could carry me away,
A tall figure which would lead me astray,
As I pray for my decay.