in the streets of downtown.
with no one he talks,
and his face in a frown.
he walks down on main street,
and he watches his back.
walking here is no feat,
but he must stay on track.
through the concrete and glass,
the city he heeds.
and as time seems to pass,
he figures out what he needs.
he needs some time alone,
to his favorite spot he goes.
its a place hes only shown,
to people that he knows.
at the bayou he stops,
to sit down and think,
it rains a few drops,
but it stops in a blink.
hes in his own zone,
believing time heals.
so he pulls out his phone,
and writes what he feels.
he writes about the hole,
inside that he cant fill.
buried deep inside his soul,
his feelings he starts to spill.
he'll come back another day,
but he's still left feeling blue.
as his favorite song would say,
with the birds he'll share the lonely view.
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