What is it called when you know something must happen but you delay the inevitable out of hope.
In hopes of sticking it to the man, or whoever decided I have to leave you.
Because I do.
They are right.
I’m stuck in a rut of what-can-be-worse
But nothing proves me wrong.
Everything can be worse.
My only wish for all of this
Is to see you do better without me.
And maybe as you pack your last box,
I’ll feel lighter than before.