Water dries slowly on my windowsill,
The sun fades from the horizon.
Coldness seeps the through the bones of the old.
Teenagers throw their clothes into a bag,
Desperate to flee their life.
How terrible are things that they must run away?
That they would prefer the streets to their bed?
Are they abused?
Do they just not understand what's on the other side of the door?
Drugs. Rape. Death.
Do they think they're strong enough to survive that?
Maybe they are.
But what if they're not?
How can one person choose to end their life rather than stick it out?
