A sharp, witty, and soulful poem about growing past the small-town bubble – where high-school legends still chase their youth, and the rest of us became the storm they never saw coming.

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“They Never Left”

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They still cruise the same White Castle lot,

revving old engines that time long forgot.

Still talking ‘bout touchdowns, keggers, and prom,

whilst crying along to their high school’s fight song.

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He peaked in gym class, never quite came down,

still king of his barstool and prince of this town.

Yelling at refs through a Natty Light haze,

wearing his jersey from the good ol’ glory days.

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She’s selling false lashes in pyramid chains,

posting affirmations to numb all the pain.

#BossBabe, #Hustle, #DreamsDoComeTrue

(Too scared to leave home, but what can you do?)

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Their timelines sparkle with “remember when,”

the past on repeat again and again.

Same gossip, same faces, same tired sin.

This zip code their kingdom, their safe space within.

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But we – the misfits – we fled that scene.

We traded teenage ego for our hopes and big dreams.

We stepped outside those sacred city limits,

left those small town bars to chase bigger spirits.

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We kissed our wounds and called them art,

stitched new outcomes from broken hearts.

Shed that town like snakes shed skin,

rose from the ashes to feel free again.

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They’ll toast old glories with those same shaking hands,

still chasing youth through those same shifting sands.

While we built futures they told us were dumb,

they see our names rise with their scrolling thumbs.

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So raise your glass to Table Ten,

where yesterday lives again… and again.

We learned to live our lives while they replayed –

we grew up,

and they…

just… stayed.

😘