i grew up being forgotten.
a poem about leaving in the dead of night.
i have made a habit out of
leaving in the dead of night.
when morning arrives and i do not,
the people i’ve left ring me
to ask where i went.
i grew up being forgotten,
a poem about leaving in the dead of night.
i have made a habit out of
leaving in the dead of night.
when morning arrives and i do not,
the people i’ve left ring me
to ask where i went.
i grew up being forgotten,