This is

By
If I were brave and daring,
I would leave and
take you with me.
I would take no more of this,
this senseless, useless s***.
(All s*** is useless, really.)
I would stand up
and walk out
and leave,
taking you with me.
Together, we would need
nothing else.
We'd live on love alone
like in all the poems.

But love poems are seldom real.
Rebellion is but an illusion.
Reality is settling
and acceptance
and conformity
and suburbia.
Real is staying here.
Real is not leaving.
Noble is doing it for a reason.





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