They always say you can turn around, but I'm not sure if that's true. The heart often struggles with the mind's will. And these obsidian forests I intrude upon, branches scratching my narrow eyes, I would not wish that darkness on anyone.
(I can't go back, I have already carried myself this far).
I already have my jacket on, shoes ready, an empty backpack for I know nothing of what's ahead.
There isn't enough time to write you thank-you, there isn't enough air to express that. But don't cry because of my choice, don't blame the previous circumstances, don't think it was because you were ever
lacking.
And please, don't meet (my gaze).
Sometimes we have to bear the courage to live our goodbyes...
