I am not sure how to save you this time, scared chickadee,
running away from home at the first sign of an angry mother or the
inherent need for some fresh air.
now, the path back escapes you and all the lamplights are beginning to turn on.

is this the freedom they speak of?
you hope not, but it seems like it is.

I looked for you in all the alleyways and down every dumpster,
we just found the skin you shed throughout instead.
if you were my lizard, I would leash you,
but alas, you belong to the sewers now, the earth floor and that big lake.

and I could never put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,
though I will never stop trying,
collecting every piece hoping to recreate anything that would remotely resemble you.