A bench on the front porch
trees, grass, water
sky, endless sky
I’d try and keep myself from crying, but there’s no point in that. There’s no one around to see it anyhow. I keep believing that if I change my location I’ll be able to start fresh, but I forget the one constant, the one thing I can’t leave behind… me. Last night if I could have I’d have walked until there was nothing but trees around me… but there’s nowhere to go when I go out my front door. Streetcars, people, houses, lights, cars. No such thing anymore as silence. And if I went out the front door, walked away and never came back, where would that get me? I’d still have to deal with me. And then I’d be alone.
Knowing this doesn’t make the feeling of wanting to run away leave, though.