Strangers blend in..

over time..

sink a sculpture..

lose their culture..

get the blame..

for the crime.

Sorry dear..

i’m not from here..

that’s my shelter..

hopes and fear..

we sleep under..

mounts of thunder..

hard to climb..

or to think of..

what comes after..

over time.

See these lines?

i don’t mean to..

but they rhyme..

with no structure..

and i’ll blend in..

over time..

in this culture..

in your gesture..

as you mime.

In that face..

i lost my focal..

and this town..

rejects my vocal..

that’s the price..

one may pay..

for loving a local.