When I was little
(About six or seven)
I’d dream of a red balloon
To fly me to heaven.
A short while later,
When I was eight,
I took action and said:
I will escape.
But next year found me
At nine years old,
Still in that horrible,
Germ-infested threshold.
A few months later,
When I turned ten,
I grabbed a goat, a sheep
And a hen.
I practiced shooting,
And tying a knot,
Preparing to LEAVE
Which I wanted a lot,
At eleven years old,
I did it, alright,
I took off, I did,
One clear black night.
I walked for miles,
All by myself,
I slept and cried,
And I turned twelve.
At age thirteen,
I realized…
That you were good,
That you were right.
I shouldn’t have left you,
I was stupid and young,
I shouldn’t have gone,
Out here, there’s no sun.
But I can’t go back,
I’m lost and alone,
I want that red balloon
To come take me home.
