Ran away to Hollywood
when I was just a teen.
Those streets were mean.
Didn’t have a clue
what to do, where to go,
how to survive.
Came home alive.
Used to drive high in the hills,
to rise above the ugliness,
and forget my broken dreams.
Wanted to escape reality
and mold my life into a world
where creature comforts
replaced the pain from all the shame
that bound me.
It never happened.
Used to hike along Mulholland Drive,
overlooking the Hollywood Freeway,
with its endless stream of traffic,
pouring like lava in the night,
dreaming that someday,
somehow, I would rise above it all,
conquering Tinsel Town
in all her Jaded and faded glory.
It never happened.
I finally packed my car one day.
Heading home,
tail tucked between my legs.
To this day,
I hate LA.
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