Suddenly going through the same thing finally got boring.
Being misunderstood all the time became annoying.
The streets knowing more about who she loved than she did, made her question her bid.
So she left, after years of crying and trying to save something that was temporarily there, the type of love and loyalty she gave was something so rare.
“I’m coming back,” she smiled, kissed him on his cheek, and left everything she owned.
Tryna get away from the pain, leaving the memories in that home.
Left her key, crossed the street and just started walking.
People waived, smiled, yelled her name, but she did no talking.
Where she was going? Back to where she came from, when she was tryna start over before love hit her, but pain won.
Stress made her invision that she needed somebody there, and when she turned around, the wrong people seemed to not care.
Where she came from, they stole half of her clothes, “We don’t know what happened”, is what she was told.
Back to where she came from, but in a different town. One where nobody she wanted to see was really around.
Where she came from was a temporary shelter for housing assistance, but some sort of loving from someone was needed, because this was different.
So she did it anyway, as independent as she’ll ever be. With the help of some members from her family.
Ain’t tell nobody where she was staying or why she chose it because she had to learn on her own what it felt like to have nobody to rock wit.
Leave a Reply