LET US TALK

What do I do when the streets that held my deepest secrets start calling my name again?  I keep whispering into the street light I am not the same person I was back then, my old friend. I don't need that bottle touching my lips or your monkeys on my back.

You call to say that you have that knife in your hand again. Looking to carve in your skin an end, you keep telling yourself you lost hope. Things are just not the same on the streets. We used to roam on hot summer nights as kids than teenagers and adults.

I keep on telling you we were never promised a happy ever after, but life isn't always a disaster. Come on, take my hand, let us go to our old school's playground and play on the slide and swings. We can stay out all night like we did when we were kids and under the stars talk for hours.