Getting Away

An apartment with brick walls

Old school, downtown in the city, kinda style

It smells like a fireplace long out of commission

The balcony is cold and gray, made to look like wrought iron even though it isn’t

Weary birds sit on the railing, but I can’t name them

I never did care for birds

It’s cold out for September and I stay inside

Away from the birds and away from the world

The worn out rug from my mother’s house keeps me company

Same as my grandpa’s creaky rocking chair

I sit wrapped in a blanket and daydream of corn fields and nighttime summer skies

Brick walls are awfully hard to cover up

And my voice bounces off of them in all the wrong ways

What am I doing here

This will never be home


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