Hometown woes

Partridge in a Poetry

We are all dying

In this slow and steady race

But I would be lying

If I didn’t say the pace

Seemed to quicken

With every day spent in this place

Where a facade of hospitality

Haunts every face

The walls are made of cardboard

In the town where I reside

And old opinions that form

Grow stronger with time

The people here are ghosts

Of yesterday’s lies

You can’t escape the judgement

Of their shifting blinded eyes

Their minds don’t reach

Past the borders of the town

As if they can’t see that

A world exists around

Yet within the city limits

They ignore all the sounds

Of the ugly occurrences

As much as they resound

Take me to the places

Beyond all of these trees

I don’t want to be on a wait list

Buffering in mediocrity

There are things that exist

More important than October leaves


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