A long time ago I presented to you my dreams on a plate and called it 'Dinner,'
We shared our table with many a lost soul,
Our lost boys,
And I said that when you're lost, it's best to stay put.
But what happens when the lost boys started in a safe place, making others safe, keeping others safe, and ran away?
Robbery happens, earthquakes rattle an already tragedy struck home, but the ground remains steady.
The earth keeps spinning and planets don't align because this isn't Peter Pan, you were far from Lost, Boy.
Boy, like you are not the man who co-founded this unspoken movement, boy, like you are still that fifteen year old who knocked his girlfriend up.
In a home that rebuilt people, you should feel safest, in a home that you helped build, you should have stayed but you ran away.
You met a lost boy, well, girl, on the way. She was one we'd taken care of too, until she got back on her feet and moved out, no longer sitting about our table.
She was your least favorite because she was lazy. She did no work to make things easier on the house and she made food when there was hot food on the stove.
She wasted resources yet we took care of her.
And when she left, she fell right off the bandwagon and you, alone, were the one to catch her. She brought you down with her.
So now you sit, numbed by the smell of piss and gym socks, at a house a few blocks away and let me say that I really fucking hope Peter Pan finds you some day.