Below is the poem entitled 67 Suicides which was written by poet
White. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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My eyes are open yet I see nothing
because there is nothing to see,
I go to my job and stare at the clock
there's nothing that I want to be,
I long to be conscious when I am
perhaps in my dreams I am free,
I seem alive but I'm really half-dead
and my path is strewn with debris.