As I look at the cars driving by,
The shops and the people passing me,
I wonder what they might be thinking.
Of my suitcase packed tight,
Of my purse, filled as much as possible.
I stop walking, and take a minute to myself.
I think of the previous years,
Of the bullying, the abuse, the humiliation
I'd been forced to endure.
Today is my eighteenth,
Today I packed up everything
And left home.
I look at the world carrying on,
Passing me by without a thought.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection
In a passing car, fleeting.
I see a face with eyes
Filled with hope for the first time in years.
No one knows what happened to me,
And they are very content to imagine
I have a good life.
I do now. I am free,
I think as I step off the curb, and into the street.
Smiling at the people,
Loving the feeling of just melting away
Into the crowd.
