The building didn’t change, the simple architecture remains but somehow the exited warm feeling is no longer the same.

The people stay here, not quite happy but they know they’d never want to leave.

I know how they feel, I’ve been where they’ve been- I’ve felt all their feelings and now all I’m left with is grief.

Not quite grieving the place, all the walls stay the same, but grieving the person I used to be.

The feelings I used to feel, I still feel those now but somehow with more experience, I become more down.

I grieve the friends that I made, the way that I was carefree, not quite happy but not sad.

I was stable where I was, with the people who I was around.

The bricks felt safe then, now they just feel worn down- I think the walls know I’ve overstayed my welcome but I don’t quite know if I’m ready to get out.

They provided me with shelter when the hail came down and helped me see who I was from the inside out.

I know staying just isn’t my path, but leaving here feels like the easy way out.

Still all the bricks lay in the same place they did yesterday and the new people are coming in to take my place.

I can’t do anything now but leave this place I once knew as my town.

I’ll miss you, even if you wasn’t always the best.

Your identity is made up of the people that join, yet somehow you helped shape mine.

You are cold and incapable of love, but I believe that’s a myth that you helped bust.

If this is goodbye, which I know it is.

Can you promise me that no matter what you’ll carry on giving?

Your giving is more powerful than any other gift.