Some days I wish I could hide forever
and once I’m gone leave not a trace
of where I’d like to be.
Right now the tension’s ‘bout to snap—
lash at the ones holding it taught.
Some days, I’m so tired and weary and scared
I think things that I should not;
like running away.

Some days I wish I could disappear
leaving all the world behind me—
and go a place that’s better.
But what is better than now?
(Is later perhaps the grass that’s greener?)
Some days I want to reach out and touch and cry
for what I can see in the now;
such as cabbages and kings.

Funny how you can still feel the same as you did then.