Watch your step,
for you're burning the water you tread on
everyone knows you're in too deep.
Walking with your head high,
no one knows what kind of times you've been through
Strangers glance at you briefly
as you sit on an abandoned bench.
"Bring on the sun,"
you think. "Bring on those better days."
Not wanting to go home
you wander for miles
not looking back,
not knowing where you're going.
But the one thing you're sure of,
is that you had to leave.
Nothing more than a backpack
and guilt resting on your shoulders.
The sun cracks through the trees above you.
Patches of sunlight form on the ground.
"Things are starting to look up,"
A kind stranger says, not really to anyone.
The sky starts to clear up,
and you feel the weight on your shoulders start to lift.
I guess he's right,
I guess things really are starting to look up.
