Think, for a Second, where the world is.
Where the stops and starts are.
Where the cars go, I am not.
But I am not far, father.
Farther we go to the end of the road.
The farther we go, we choose to roam.
The fall leaves are covered with snow.
And I am still all alone.
The farther we go, we realize we have no home.
I sing for my supper, like maybe I deserve some food.
I feel I am the only one in this room
who has something to prove.
You left me in the stoop,
and I feel there’s no room to move.
So I look for a ladder, some rope.
I look to the sky, for something I can gather, maybe hope.
I climb, the dirt in my nails, but this hole is deep.
And I want to get out, but it’s getting harder to breathe.
The fall is always harder than the leap.
Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly. His latest book is Train of Thought.
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