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Just randomly typed this out after having the idea recently.
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These brand new beds, clean sheets, sparkling pillows and comfy surroundings are nice, but its nothing like my own bed, my own room. These sweets I munch on, hundreds of them for me to pick and choose. They’re tasty, but its nothing like one of mum’s chocolate cake deserts. These footballs are brand new, pumped up, high tech, but its nothing like going down the park with my dad on a Saturday, and kicking around an old, worn out footy.
I am alone.
Even though it’s been so long, I’m not used to being alone.
Remember when you got lost in the shopping mall when you were a kid? How you were scared and frightened, flailing around looking for a familiar face in your panic? That happened to me. Drifted apart from my mother’s hand whilst looking along shelves. Except I never found her again. I never found my mum. I wandered around on my 8 year old legs not knowing what was going on, and with seas of unknown faces, unknown places, and unknown airs, I did the only thing that occurred to me. I ran.
I ran and I searched high and low. No luck. It’s been 4 years I’ve been searching, high and low, far and wide around the local area. And I always return here, just before closing time, because it’s the only place with even a shade of familiarity. I wait in a dark corner near the lifts as the last of the employee’s locks up, and then I crawl into the vents, into the shops, to rest, or to feed, to maintain some sort of comfort.
But I still long for my mother’s arms and my father’s touch as I lay here grasping furiously at the pillows of the DFS bed, holding back the tears for yet another night of emptiness. I don’t think my hand will ever find hers again, but just for the chance I return to the place I lost her every day. Tesco, aisle 13: Fizzy and soft drinks.
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These brand new beds, clean sheets, sparkling pillows and comfy surroundings are nice, but its nothing like my own bed, my own room. These sweets I munch on, hundreds of them for me to pick and choose. They’re tasty, but its nothing like one of mum’s chocolate cake deserts. These footballs are brand new, pumped up, high tech, but its nothing like going down the park with my dad on a Saturday, and kicking around an old, worn out footy.
I am alone.
Even though it’s been so long, I’m not used to being alone.
Remember when you got lost in the shopping mall when you were a kid? How you were scared and frightened, flailing around looking for a familiar face in your panic? That happened to me. Drifted apart from my mother’s hand whilst looking along shelves. Except I never found her again. I never found my mum. I wandered around on my 8 year old legs not knowing what was going on, and with seas of unknown faces, unknown places, and unknown airs, I did the only thing that occurred to me. I ran.
I ran and I searched high and low. No luck. It’s been 4 years I’ve been searching, high and low, far and wide around the local area. And I always return here, just before closing time, because it’s the only place with even a shade of familiarity. I wait in a dark corner near the lifts as the last of the employee’s locks up, and then I crawl into the vents, into the shops, to rest, or to feed, to maintain some sort of comfort.
But I still long for my mother’s arms and my father’s touch as I lay here grasping furiously at the pillows of the DFS bed, holding back the tears for yet another night of emptiness. I don’t think my hand will ever find hers again, but just for the chance I return to the place I lost her every day. Tesco, aisle 13: Fizzy and soft drinks.
aaaw, sad
Just randomly typed this out after having the idea recently.
--------------------------------------------------------
These brand new beds, clean sheets, sparkling pillows and comfy surroundings are nice, but its nothing like my own bed, my own room. These sweets I munch on, hundreds of them for me to pick and choose. They’re tasty, but its nothing like one of mum’s chocolate cake deserts. These footballs are brand new, pumped up, high tech, but its nothing like going down the park with my dad on a Saturday, and kicking around an old, worn out footy.
I am alone.
Even though it’s been so long, I’m not used to being alone.
Remember when you got lost in the shopping mall when you were a kid? How you were scared and frightened, flailing around looking for a familiar face in your panic? That happened to me. Drifted apart from my mother’s hand whilst looking along shelves. Except I never found her again. I never found my mum. I wandered around on my 8 year old legs not knowing what was going on, and with seas of unknown faces, unknown places, and unknown airs, I did the only thing that occurred to me. I ran.
I ran and I searched high and low. No luck. It’s been 4 years I’ve been searching, high and low, far and wide around the local area. And I always return here, just before closing time, because it’s the only place with even a shade of familiarity. I wait in a dark corner near the lifts as the last of the employee’s locks up, and then I crawl into the vents, into the shops, to rest, or to feed, to maintain some sort of comfort.
But I still long for my mother’s arms and my father’s touch as I lay here grasping furiously at the pillows of the DFS bed, holding back the tears for yet another night of emptiness. I don’t think my hand will ever find hers again, but just for the chance I return to the place I lost her every day. Tesco, aisle 13: Fizzy and soft drinks.
--------------------------------------------------------
These brand new beds, clean sheets, sparkling pillows and comfy surroundings are nice, but its nothing like my own bed, my own room. These sweets I munch on, hundreds of them for me to pick and choose. They’re tasty, but its nothing like one of mum’s chocolate cake deserts. These footballs are brand new, pumped up, high tech, but its nothing like going down the park with my dad on a Saturday, and kicking around an old, worn out footy.
I am alone.
Even though it’s been so long, I’m not used to being alone.
Remember when you got lost in the shopping mall when you were a kid? How you were scared and frightened, flailing around looking for a familiar face in your panic? That happened to me. Drifted apart from my mother’s hand whilst looking along shelves. Except I never found her again. I never found my mum. I wandered around on my 8 year old legs not knowing what was going on, and with seas of unknown faces, unknown places, and unknown airs, I did the only thing that occurred to me. I ran.
I ran and I searched high and low. No luck. It’s been 4 years I’ve been searching, high and low, far and wide around the local area. And I always return here, just before closing time, because it’s the only place with even a shade of familiarity. I wait in a dark corner near the lifts as the last of the employee’s locks up, and then I crawl into the vents, into the shops, to rest, or to feed, to maintain some sort of comfort.
But I still long for my mother’s arms and my father’s touch as I lay here grasping furiously at the pillows of the DFS bed, holding back the tears for yet another night of emptiness. I don’t think my hand will ever find hers again, but just for the chance I return to the place I lost her every day. Tesco, aisle 13: Fizzy and soft drinks.