A Bad Night.

Empty-headed, cold and sore, and out of sync with life,
The poor boy wonders aimlessly down the alley with a knife.
Not for violent purposes, surely this you see,
He's only heading home again, to the place where he is free.

The alley's cold and bare, a scary place to be,
But he's walked this way a thousand times, he knows it just like me.
First he has to fall down far, as far as he can go,
Then he has to climb back up, and carry on the show.

I escaped the trap a while ago, he's left all alone,
I watch him from my window now, I hear him scream and moan.
I almost want to help him home, to show him the way out,
But he wouldn't believe me anyhow, plus I'm not aloud.

"Let him find his own way back," they often used to say,
"But it may take a lifetime," I said, "Or just one more day."
"let him find his own way back, it's his life, and not yours,"
And so I watch from my view, at him lying on the floor.

It's a terrible sight, a sad one too, to watch him writhe and scream,
The sad thing is he'll never know..

..It's really just a dream.