The same hills,

The same sky.

How do you expect me

To leave?


The same rivers,

The forrest,

The waterfalls.

The fields,

The moors,

Those tiny cottages,

With butter yellow



The rain,

That makes us moan.

Always rain.

The rain that pours,

It sends us home.

The Snow

That blocks our paths

To work

And School.

The noxious buses.

The only way

To travel.

How do you expect me

To leave?


The man the children call,

Trampy Bob.

His waist length hair,

The can of beer

He holds

And that drunken stare.


Those on bicycles,

They drink beer, too.

The teenagers who stand


Identical right down

To the shoe.

They shout, they jeer,

They fight, they cheer.

How do you expect me

To leave?


Friends are not around.

Family is deteriorating.

The world is round,

The cities are waiting.

I have places to go.

And people to see.

Why should I stay,

Where nothing awaits me?

Here, life is rough,

But so are diamonds.

Here my life,

Is unfulfilled.

I am a child,

No more.

But how.


Do you expect me

To leave?

The End

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