Can I grow here anymore?
I look at those who fled with cautious eyes
They took a dash to make distance from themselves
Ignoring what the cast in champagne tinged company
They’ve all something to prove to their peers
Who materialize as stones that make these towers
I assumed I’d follow suit when I go
But after a winter of hugging my shadow
He’s written me up an personal reference
“Sebastian hereby accepts his self, where ever he goes”
So without bias I can wonder and see
What waits outside of these borders for me
They’re already dead
Every artist, every dreamer
Something colourless and callous has taken them
And now they have the answers; they cannot grow anywhere
Colchester’s devoid of romantics
Devoid of a sense of curiosity
And I do want to show the soil my love
And if I ingrain, could I never find another
Who looks my way like the first present on Christmas morning
Without the blindfold youth and ignorance provides
I think I already know
But I have no idea where they’d go
My reflection given a conduits form
Maybe the nature of symmetry relives me of worry
The place where I can grow…. Surely they too will roam
Lnc0
Domestic Poetry 