Poems probably

the canadian ocean is better than the american one idk

The prairies, the cows, the middle of nowhere.

I smile. it's all my home.

Fields blending with sky, the horizon isn't there.

Endless wastelands to endlessly roam.

I went to the coast, I cried and I screamed,

In that very moment, I wanted to die.

I do not smile. Just take me home.

My eyes are burning, I need to be dry.

Back to the centre, back into place.

The eye of the hurricane, the calm of the storm.

But it's a constant state, a subconscious indifference.

I am not renewed, I am not reborn.

I never died either, but is this still my life?

It's a rhetorical question; I don't need to be convinced.

For I know what I know, and I know what I think.

I went to the ocean, I cried and I screamed, and I haven't felt real since.