I cannot run, hide or fight.
I have to sit right in the centre.
And suffer.

Looking at a painful sight.
In the corner of my eye.
As I try to focus on survival mode.

Because I can’t run.
Nowhere to hide.
Forbidden to fight.
Cause I will lose my only place to live.

Although it’s not living.
It’s suffering.
Like it’s always been.
In many ways.

The last one was kind of a present because it was the better of them all.
The place before this one that I had to leave behind.
I cried.
Closed that chapture, know why.
I had to go.

But sometimes I hear the half dead forest call.
The one that was behind my place to live and survive.
The place before where I live now.

Here there’s no half dead forest.
Just parked cars, shops and houses in every street, in front of my window.

Nowhere to run, no place to hide, no permission to fight.
The people here know quite well I’m not from here and don’t belong.
I cannot sing.
Not on my walks.
I’ve never been one for small talks when I meet the neighbours...

I already mentioned too much now, better never again talk to them.
Complained too much already, it’s inside me to address things when they’re happening.

Not sit with it just suffering in silence just waiting.
Agonizing.
But many people do not know that I cannot run, hide or fight.

And it’s eating at me all the time.
I want out but I know not where I’ll go.
Only that this world has no save space.