Somewhere Theresa St.

A young boy of only eight.

on the steps he sits and waits.

He watched her walk down the road again,

she said that she’d come back for him.

she got lost in the sky,

ran away with a guy like it was fate.

Lost by this uncontrollable pain,

he holds a heart thats

completely stained.

It talks of lies,

and hatred games,

against the son,

who sits and waits.

he sits on the porch steps,

waiting for her return.

the shadows become his fears

and there is no one to hold him in the dark.

The light slowly creeps through the cracks,

as night pushes day afar.

he pulls his ears up to the window,

as if he could here the sound of keys.

but as he looked out to find out,

it was just the chime

in the summer breeze.

So the time,

passed by as days.

and the boy grew sick by week.

There was no one to cover his scars.

No one to kiss his cheek.

no one to heal his heart.

no one to guide his feet.

so the boy sat,

and he waited just a little bit longer,

and as the moon grew,

he got taller and taller,

and when the milk began to drink,

he got stronger and stronger.

and he waited.

and he waited.

for just a little bit longer.



Part TWO

The boy grew to be a young man,

and ten years have passed him by,

he no longer sits and waits,

he no longer has to cry.

if he ever wants to be on his way,

he knows that he must let her go.

i saw he decided to step off the steps today,

he walked with his head up high, and his eyes to the birds.

He said one day I’ll find my high,

through the pain that i paint with words.

He wrote a letter to the sky,

and within that, the letter burned,

through the mother, who

got lost in her-selfless tool

and was never to return.

The night fought day,

and this broken woman returned

to Theresa St.

she had all but a

hole in her soul,

and blisters on her feet.

she collapsed on the sidewalk

as she looked up at some steps,

there was not a little boy waiting,

she closed her eyes with regret

and tried to open her eyes

as if she was dreaming.

and all that was in front of her

was an empty house that set,

decaying.

and all that she was, was full of regret,

but its not her fault as she believes its fit,

she’s the one who forgot,

the boy who didn’t forget.

as the moon grew,

she felt smaller and smaller.

and when the drugs began to sink,

she grows fonder and fonder.

and she’s fading.

and she's fading.

for just a little bit longer.





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