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Do you ever wish
that you could disappear?
Just grab your keys and
get the hell out of here?

I’m tired of this town
and I’m sick of this place
where on every single corner,
all I see is your face.

You’ve tattooed each
block, landmark, and street
with memories of us
and what we used to be.

It’s like walking through
an abandoned graveyard,
each store is a headstone
memorializing my heart’s scars.

My foot is heavy on the pedal
in search of somewhere new,
somewhere with a slate wiped
clean of any traces of you.
I actually wrote this after my first boyfriend and I split up when I was sixteen. Just now posting it. Hope someone can maybe relate.
If you only knew the extent of my death
you would run away from my plight
And never look back
Death be not proud
Brent Kincaid Apr 2017
He was just fourteen
When he ran away
He couldn’t take it
For even one more day.
His mom just ignored him
Dad watched football games.
They talked behind his back
About who they should blame.

You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.

He was teased about his name
And teased about his size.
He had a kind of stutter.
They didn’t think him wise.
He was kind and polite and
Had a soft pleasant voice
So, the jerks in the crowd said
He was one of the gay boys.

The problem was he wasn’t
What any of them thought.
He was straight and he was shy
But what his manner brought
Was constant stereotyping
Based on bad parenting
Both at home and at school
Never quite relenting.

You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.

So Rodney ran away
And lived out on the street
Taking charity from those
Runaways always meet.
Now Rodney’s in jail
In the hospital ward.
His leap for freedom
Had some bad rewards.

You gotta be the way
We think you should be.
Never be like you
Always be like me.
Butch it up in public
Change the way you walk.
If you can’t do that
Just shut up, don’t talk.
If you haven't gone through some of this, you might think this is a sad fantasy but for millions of kids it is reality.
Liam C Calhoun Nov 2015
My mother misses me.
She called,
But I wouldn’t pick up.

Something feels safer,
And everything else, better,
When I’m away.

And yet, I see her,
Head in hands; crying,
“Will he ever come home?”

But with not one picture,
If only nothing, left behind,
It’d never be real again.

Emptied, would be home,
Lost, lacked a moment captured,
The effigy, smoldering, at best.

And still, she calls,
Answered, only my ringtone,
She’d never take my name away,

She’d said, “Son,” and
I’d pray for her to stop crying,
So that I may finally start.
It'd been a long time.
Hers is a savage kind of beauty.
Unnoticeable at first,
but as you linger, you see it:
Her eyes: alert and constantly alight with naked brutality,
(The eyes of a tigress,
a predator searching for prey.)

Her chin: raised high and indomitable,
(Reminding him of the queens of old,
who wielded power like it is their own:
—a missing limb, a wretched Siamese twin.)

Her mouth: clipped words laced with steel and honey,
(Saying, “I have been broken,
and I have rose and rose again.)

She had the makings of a queen,
and her palace is the gutter that she sleeps in.
NewAgeOfAnarchy Jun 2015
Will are all runaways, we all have something we are run from.
2015 copyright Michael Cross
IL Mare May 2015
knocking on the porch
in whisper: now we have,
the untimely outset,
to decide if
there is any future
between us or
if we shall let the past
face us into a void
but here lavishes
a hint we held dearly
not so long ago
when we still didn’t know
of promises worth keeping.

tonight, i think it is
still possible
yet, it seems enough.
Ciarra Mar 2015
You glimpse at me,
God can only know
How much
You set fire to my soul.

Can you see how much
I love you so.?
I just want to run away
You and I, let's go.
The words of my heart,
Genesis Luna Serenity
Morrison Leary Oct 2014
Steadily lay my lips upon slender hips,

hypnotized, aroused by this gentle kiss.

Our eyes, they formulate an idea,

the birth of a soul connection,

Finally finding the intertwining dimensions,

the design to be joined together at last, feeling alive.

We become lost in the storm,

traveling farther into the carpets of the forest, the unknown.

We adapt, we become like the Tinamou, afraid to sleep alone.

Creating a soft melody, only to entice the soothsayers ear,

a certain tone.

Construction of a pathway, cloaked by fear.

Thriving to find the opening, attempting to be in the clear.

Far away from the degenerates that roam,

the ones hiding in the plains, listening for our whispers, our euphony.

Carried across in the rain, the location, the destination,

Illuminated by the Moon's eye.

A bridge under the terrain where we bathe, we consume the gaze,

stars exploding and dying, while we lay.

Wishing upon the ashes,

A faze only for the tamed runaways.

Growing from within, a conundrum downpour.

An orchestration of the ultimate love survivalists.

Listen and absorb.
Hannah Holliday Aug 2014
Her dad promises her a new bike
Her birthday comes and all she gets is a slap across the face
She opens up the bottle of *****
Her mother promises she'll leave her father next fall
The leaves start to change color and fall off the trees
Her mother is still ******* her father
She pours herself another glass of wine
Her sister promises her that they can run away in a few weeks
14 days pass and her sister's suitcase is still sitting unpacked in the basement
She mixes a cheap *** with a half drank can of coke
Her brother promises that he's quit smoking a pack a day
His lungs are as black as the hollows of his eyes
She drinks and drinks until she cannot drink anymore and throws up in the bushes
She promises herself that she will stop drinking
She pours herself another glass.
I have never made a promise, because I know that I cannot keep something that isn't supposed to be kept.
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