Samsonite Days

Once again, about family, pain and wanting to run away. This is as human as I know how to be.

My Samsonite has my line of sight

To many late nights of the fist fight,

Sitting at the top of the stairs wondering if

Anyone cares, feeling the separation, feel the mulling

Over regrets blaring loud past a child’s worst nightmares,

Feeling the upheaval hitting the steeple, dressed up religion

Is drowned out anger change up, fast balls is what we had,

Cooking dinner alone was the way it was at home, now its

Years later and my anger has come to an end, I am packing up

Again, flushing Prozac down the drain, circling it again, death has

Been flooding my mind, escape from this town has me up at night,

Packed with me tight is my samsonite, burning bright with road

Flares is my sense of emergency, I’ve spent to many years listening

To fist fights with destiny, now its about me and how bad I want to

Runaway, its up here written in red so you don’t do it again, we all

Went around the circle in 08 telling you why separation was the only

Option, why sprinting home for the lease was the way it had to be,

Now you feel alone like an immature adolescent, now you guard lives

For a living but where is your heart beating, I am not writing to stay bitter,

I am writing so it lasts forever, scars and wounds and late night fights have

Made me a better man, with a master plan to get out once again and make a name

For the American dream, no I am not rich at all but poor in life so far,

Poverty reaches out to me cause I’d rather have nothing and know my limits

And depravity, I’d rather be alone then live with unrelenting rage at the page

The world gives me thus far, this samsonite its in my line of sight and I’ve

Decided it stays trapped in the closet not ready for today for no one said

The runaway would matter anyway, here I am again, ready to run but this

Time in a different direction

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