The ground, too familiar,
the routine, unchanging,
the town holding too many sorrows.
My home.
"Home".
Home is too homely,
and now, too empty.
All those I once deemed "friend",
either gone, gone, or have walked away.
Such a great city.
We built this city on
many a thing.
On dreams, on legacy,
on family, on firm words.
Not all of them a constant,
as those I knew know well.
But they are something.
They reoccur.
They continue.
I can't continue like this.
What must be done,
none would enjoy
the knowledge of me doing.
What must be done,
is so unruly,
that it has no return.
What must be done...
Will be done, and soon.
And I can only hope
that I can say goodbye,
for anything worth doing,
is worth doing fully.
And I can't say I understand it,
myself.
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