The 3 year itch

He sat with his homework holding back his breath,

Dad walked in with the letter and that look of death,

The room felt empty and sullen,

Dad cracked up, it was a joke, they were moving. ‘Let’s get packin’! 

Days turned into years and years into today,

The thought of moving still steered his mind astray,

There wasn’t a time he knew to be permanent and true,

In this strange reality, his mind and reality grew.

Friends, love and time would ask him to stay,

But every three years, a part of him, would begin to flay,

He would fight it and beg for stability,

But his mind and heart, defiantly, refused this insanity. 

He was a boy of dreams and wonder,

To which he did often surrender,

And when the mind finally grew restless and tired of this fight,

He would put his hands up and quietly disappear into the night. 

The 3 year itch

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