I see you at the county fair, I stare through your emptiness to the person beneath the mask, nothing will last but nothing remains in the past forever.
Weeping then in my room alone surrounded by dancing shadows, light flickering through from the stars above.
I shove pain beneath, walls gathering around trauma that could bring me down, no town to call home just memories of times when I thought I knew what being home meant to me…
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Jason Whitaker 