Belonging

You walk the streets of a city that is not yours, and you hid within its walls even though you came here because no one knows you. The night is cold and you don't hide under an umbrella, as the moist air fills your lungs, and your socks are wet from the rain, no one knows you and yet you are hiding from someone, from something, and you let weakness loose. It is pouring with rain and it pours from your eye, l o n e l I n e s s And there on the damp streets of the old town you realize that you cannot escape from yourself, you will return home because they still know you there.