Tell a story of the road home
tears and steps
regrets and resentment
The concrete echoes
It doesn't want to absorb one drop
from your trembling eyes
scratched and unpainted
like your face
Tell this story
Don't mention tragedy
they might fall on deaf ears
Or be questioned for truth
the way the concrete questions your tears
The breeze only appears to be real by the feel
or by the wavering trees that sway on your course home
Wondrous illusion your family board game made real
Tell that story
As if noone else could
As if your childhood unique
could not be understood by anyone
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