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As the clouds come
And the drops begin to fall
On a hill overlooking the city
That he once called
And still calls home.
He stands still and cold
Hardened by a tough life,
Contemplating and reflecting
On a life cut short by a vicious circle
Of extenuating circumstances.
One if by land, two if by sea.
Which of these
Will be his means to flee?
He peers out, eerily calm
Waiting for the signal to go.
He sees none.
The sign he didn’t want
But could not ignore.
He turned and began to walk home
Realizing this…
He could not stay
But he could not go.
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I was writing both from my own personal feelings and experiences and also of a few of my friends. I think everyone has had a low point in their life where they have had the feeling, even for just a brief moment, that they would love to leave everything behind and never look back, but realize that they can never really do that.
