What I used to be

Being left behind, a poem

They kept becoming better people. More certain, more loved, more real

There was a time it seemed possible to follow


Waiting in the ruins of something that once was home

Sometimes someone still appears and some pathetic hope returns

But they only glance back before returning to their lives


One of them has already left for the last time, It just was not known then

Everyone else kept growing. Something here failed

Soon this place will be gone


Part of me wants to get ahead of it

Become inhuman enough that being left behind is not cruel

It's just correct