Author Information
Thrum
I was
About to break
For the sake of
What I knew
Could not
Give a boy a wing
Just a plane
From where he'd
Grown
Was it just a place
A little sun
Just where I'm
From
Could I truly leave
Could I even gain
A thing
You know I was running from the room
You saw me buried in that cacoon
Old father running his house
I hid to hate my way out
Through and on my own
I had learned not to move
Eyes set on the enterprise
Blinded from the inner vice I
Gilded up my room
With no heart
