Drove past your house last night in hopes the lights were still on. I know I can't be happy here. And only now I hear your voice in my head begging to get out of this small town. The longing to return to the home I never really had. Sometimes I cross the street without looking both ways, sometimes I pray nobody gets this life after me. I wouldn't wish permanent dissatisfaction upon anyone else, but I guess some would. At the end of the day, no place is as soothing as the deepest despair.
