Friday Night

The indentation
of a solitary backside
permanently sculpted
into the corner arm chair
I’m stuck listening
that make my heart
It fills
with thoughts
weighing it down
And I
once again
have the urge to run
to leave and never look back
I think it impossible
for someone such as myself
to have hailed from such a place
full of an arm chair
where I grew up
to degrading,
caged conversations
every evening
this little bird
gets just a little bit closer
to escaping.

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