Six Months

[TranquillityBase]

It usually takes alot,
to go back to a place forgot.
Forgot not by choice,
but by necessity.

This small city
made to boom,
consumes
my sanity.

Every six months,
Fueled up with gas.
This old car pursues
beaten paths.

To a home
unknown.               I'd suggest moving these lines up to be a part of previous stanza

Foreign, I am.
From three hours away.
If God would answer when I prayed.   a comma at the end of this line instead of a period
I'd take my only loves away.

Bunx,

Really enjoyed this poem.  I've been to that town myself and last lines really clinch it.

TqB