I'm Not Hometown Anymore

Maybe I'm being wistful;
I've always been,
in combination with an overactive
and ever hopeful
imagination.
I love the walk
or short drive
within my community.
The small time
that can take up so much.
I guess that rarely happens anymore.

Maybe I'm different.
The way I do or see things
isn't as established
as the norm.
It works well for me,
even if I refuse to make it
work for you.
But it makes noone happy
if they're not meddling
or tinkering,
thinking of ways to make life better.
It's fine for me
and my
low-down imperfections.
It's my life. I'll share
what and when I want.
Don't question me.
I have to learn how to live on my own.

Maybe it's not so easy.
TV, the Internet and other media
play games with peoples' heads
and try to stick the mainstream
down their hollow throats.
I'm just a simple man
navigating their roads
on the way to something
for better or for worse.
I don't like it,
having to play along,
but I do it
just to hopefully remain or reclaim
the relevancy that was once my home.
And maybe
it's not welcome anymore,
but my name is the only thing I own
that can't be taken from me.
I'm shovelling uphill
through people
that don't care
or fail to acknowledge
where they are
or where they're from.
They backpeddle on their roots
just to throw it in the faces
of those who never had it so easy.
Maybe that's why
it's so hard to want to go to work.
The kids don't listen
like I was supposed to listen,
and don't need to earn
like I was forced to learn how to.

I wasn't made to handle these times.
I was small-town, home-grown,
duties first question later.
The icon of the non-iconic.
It didn't matter
unless the small stuff mattered,
and then everything mattered.
And maybe then,
to me...
well, to the rest of you,
maybe not.
Hold your judgements,
lest you be judged.