A foreign land
Where I felt alone, distant.
Anger and uncertainty, my
Survival tools, sharp and blunt,
Ready to cut and bash
Whatever hospitality the locals
Brought my way.
Opportunity allowed a getaway,
The revelers were too busy
Sowing their oats or shoofly pie,
To notice my predetermined escape.
Anger dulled to a steady calm and
Uncertainty became confident
As I got home.
Photo Credit: Zach Damberger via Pexels