Being on the inside looking out isn’t always as it seems,
Perhaps foreign curiosity creates oras of disdain,
Or the want and need of greater things catalysts the quest for rain,
On greener pastures of fields afar where no one remembers your name.
Oh what I’d give to stand in your shoes and feel freedom upon my face,
Not a care in the world or whimsical woe conjured from such disgrace,
If nothing more than the mere want of more bred motivation of such a face,
Then take the halls of this castle I call, and with me trade out if this place.
