Packing our bags,
as if never coming back,
to never look back
at these baggy bags.

These baggy bags,
have you and me.
Memories,  now they flee,
with the bagginess these bags.

The park swing still swings,
as if it never missed our bubbling
nor the crazy chattering,
on that swing we used to swing.

Eccentric we were,
in terms of termly terms
like love,we had to squirm
and worm to who we were.

The park swing had bid adieu long ago,
but these baggy bags,
memory and love it drags;
these baggy bags don't flow with the foe.

These baggy bags,
packed bags,they sack
nothing but love and faith-
that, we once had.

The sky was a dash of salt
Bitter and never enough
He was standing there admiring the rocking chair
The price she said “you will have to pay”
Creakkkkk says the old rocking chair

He brought it home that old rocking chair
Placed it just below the stairs
“Ah” he said firmly and turned it to face the sea
Little did he know he would have to pay a termly fee
Creakkkk says the old rocking chair

Late that night as the crows cried
he rolled over upon his side
There in the doors way
The creaky old rocking chair making its way
Creakkkk says the old rocking chair

Back and forth the rocking chair goes
Why this way no one knows
The man had awaken by the time of dawn
He tried to shake off what he had saw
Creakkkk says the old rocking chair

There in the way of his escape
Ruby red blood crawling from the rocking chair
Flowing freely from the old rocking chair
On to the white soft forest below
Creakkkk says the old rocking chair

As he inched away from his near turned opponent
The squeaky, creaky old rocking chair
The most beautiful women the man had ever seen
A gastly figure dressed in white and stained with a gruesome scene
Turned to face the sea
Creakkkk says the old rocking chair

He thought of running hiding somewhere far away
But that beautiful mistress begged him to stay
The wind then was a chorus of howling crys
He could not believe his eyes
That once creepy, sneaky rocking chair disappeared from his side
That old rocking chair creaked no more


Years later when his bones were as old stone
That same man walked down the same street alone
Just when he’d thought that peace was here at last
He saw a flash from an undesired past
Sitting just below the stairs…
Creakkkk said the old rocking chair

If home were where the heart is, am I to be considered careless?
Still young with four parents, why do I feel so alone?
This hostel that calls me a student, do they care for me?
How am I supposed to adult on my own...

I have biological and sudo-step family and they seem happy
As they are, they are content with their nuclear families
And I am content with solitude. Something to call my own.
But solitude ends with the term.

I sleep in living rooms and, after emotional diffusers, at friend's houses.
My little half-brother hasn't yet learned that he can ignore me while I wallow in my pity
A lesson that he will learn with my termly absences
A lesson my parents surely have

I don't think that it's being sent away that makes me feel alone
Nor the sleeping on couches, many people seem to be fine and they were also raised like this.
No, it's the happiness. Their happiness...
Yes, I am the bad guy of this story, the antagonist you boo
I arrogantly assume that if they loved me they would be sadder when I went away.
And, maybe, at first they were, but that was before the wedding bells rang, again.
Before they promised to death for the second time

I know there are more lessons to be learnt now that I'm growing older.
Lessons that have served me well, but that childish rage in me will always glow.
So I'll finish my education, get a job and a house
And hopefully emotionally I'll grow.
And maybe, just maybe, my heart will grow softer, or bolder.