i would not give much discomfort,
before i quietly make myself disowned,
i would quietly leave the house,
at night when cricket's cries are moaned,
i shall leave every belonging to this house,
including memories of a past that has been stoned,
i shall give a last glance back,
and let out a tear,
but before it wud wet the ground,
i will be on my track,
unreachabely far,
at some place unknown and black,
i would fit in there,
in an unnoticed, little crack.
which would never hurt me,
with nostalgic attacks.
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