irony

he wanted so badly to get away from this place he would look across the train tracks at the open plains and wish wish wish that he could run run run and never look back and the sun shining on his face and his hair whipping in the clean air and his fingers open to feel the wind rushing rushing rushing as thick as water until one day he can’t take it anymore and all he sees is the butter sun opening its eye to him beckoning him closer and he runs towards it away from the houses and the responsibilities feet feet feet and tapping away and he never even sees the train