No more

They disappoint,
they disappear,
they die but they don't.
They disappoint
in turn, I fear.
Forgive, though, they won't.

Running away, let's do it;
free from the ties that bind.
No more despair or burdens to bear
out there in the yonder.

Running away, go to it.
Where did you have in mind?
Have to take care: unless there's a "where"
you'll only be wandering blind.
Just more questions, different kind.
Where are we to go? Where are we ever to go?

Running away, we'll do it;
why sit around, resigned?
Trouble is, boy, the farther you run,
the more you feel undefined
for what you have left undone,
and, more, what you've left behind.

We disappoint,
we leave a mess,
we die but we won't;
we disappoint
in turn, I guess,
Forget, though, we won't.

And it's nothing new.