*Another oldie from when I was 17, man I was a sad ass boy*

Walking under the proto-sleet beneath me
What is it that the locals see in me?
If i started running would any of them follow me?
Friend or foe to see what was the score?
Making my way through the nostalgic stage sets
Exit right away from the routine dramatics I’ve seen before
Trekking it all the way on my own
As much as I’d hate to sulk, let alone
But it’s far to late to scream for them
As I’ve already fled the scene

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?

I couldn’t find the heart to ask for aid
When it’s that aid which is expected of me
But if i started to walk away would any of them stop me?
Unless i tried to plan and make a scene
But to give in to weaker ways would destroy me
Would it make me nothing more than charity?
Snifflers and sobbers huddled on the pavement floor
Asking for pity, louder than ever before
Would it be wrong to follow suit?
Or would opposing tropes cause me to be cast aside?
If your not happy your not relevant in these times
So sadly I’ll have to flee the scene
And hope that they’ll follow me

Is it out of hate they decide to keep quiet?
Or is it out of love they don’t want to tip the harmony?