I always wanted to run,
Just wanted to leave.
My problems had become a burden,
And a new world, I wanted to see.
But to my dismay,
To my disbelief,
The grass wasn’t greener,
It was just as deceased.
And I wondered,
Upon many nights, of the skies I thought,
What was the purpose, what was reason,
That myself, I constantly fought.
And now I sense,
And truly feel,
That the beauty of life,
Was during the trials when I most felt real .