Going Home Tomorrow

Yes, folks, after noon I will be free to go home and get away from this hellhole! *beams* Becca and I are gonna go down to Fredericksburg, where my mom'll pick me up. And then I'm free until Sunday! *dances around*

Poem

All that's left are embers, the remnants of a past
That wasn't good enough to last, no, never good enough to last
People talk about things that were just too good to last
But that was never us, we were always just splinters of the past

The remnants of the past, a lament of what could be
Faded, tattered photographs of them and you and me