The Place I Waited Years To Leave by Eoghan Lyng

Eoghan Lyng, Poetry, Punk Noir Magazine

The Place I Waited Years To Leave

Oh, how I waited years to leave the nest,

And fly  with other birds to the East,

To feed myself on luxuries only we could see,

Sharing naught for anyone but our own needs,

For who but fools and writers share their soul,

Eating worm after worm in a line of delusion,

To fantasise of the land we flew from.

How I would return!

How I would return!