Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.
The older I get, the more I realize that you don't have to be around people you don't want to be around, and you don't have to be in a situation you don't want to be in. You have the power to rise up and leave.