Be still.
The remnants of a quiet voice cry out,
and beckon me to return to a place
set away from all of this bullshit.
Where I may find my happiness.
Feel free to run.
You’re free to be young.
To be lost in the moment beats the heart of a child.
You’re free to run.
Retrieve me. Obligations… Know you have to…
But still,
a quiet voice within speaks: every
thing that is good inside of me comes from
the northern woodlands of this mitten,
where my heart is calling me.
Feel free to run.
You’re free to be young.
To be lost in the moment beats the heart of a child.
My life's spent here on the cuff in denial.
I need to run!
The world itself is poised as a dagger’s point at me here on the wrist.
An analogous threat fitting this state of mind like a glove; I’ll wear it.
Be still, the remnants of a quiet voice: I cry out!
Feel free to run.
You’re free to be young.
To be lost in the moment beats the heart of a child.
My life's spent here on the cuff in denial.
You're free to run!
