Escape is a hard word to define when you donâ€™t know where you are
Or, when you donâ€™t even know why you are there in the first place
Itâ€™s like a memoir of solitude; a semi-colon as a tattoo.
A statement saying, â€œIâ€™ve been there,â€ or â€œI did that.â€
An excuse to get away from the troubles and agitation that mold us everyday
Itâ€™s hard to escape when you donâ€™t have an exit
A way or place to go to.
Many of us find the noose around our neck or slits on our wrist satisfactory
While others just simply change a direction, and travel a different road.
However, amid all of these, some find themselves entrapped in the forest.
Without said supplies or a map; without night or day; without right or wrong
Yet, conscience of mind and the shade of Earthâ€™s natural growth lingering above
That should be enough, right?
Enough to create company? Enough to keepâ€¦sanity?
Well, itâ€™s hard to say when the forest forever changes
Yet, here we are beneath the brush. Still.
Planning our escape.
Planning the adventure we said we would have when we were younger.
Planning the life that the town around us hoped we would achieve.
We wish we could feel it all.
Feel that love that the high-school sweethearts cherished
Feel that sadness that those who have lost in their lives have
Yet, here we are beneath the brush. Entrapped in the forest
Planning our escape. Itâ€™s hard to be Alone.