Derailed (or: sing, sing, sing along if you once had it all)

(this week we imitate Robert Frost by writing blank verse. the only rule is basically a constant number of stresses per line.)

Ever since you stopped calling for help,
It's hard for me to stand back up again.
When I would sit on summer sidewalk curbs,
I used to see all the things we'd get to do,
But now I just see all the things we've done,
Again and again until someone trips over me
Or a curious dog noses my shoulder and chin.
So I haul myself to my feet, clutching at benches,
Streetlights, sun rays, whatever will take my weight.
You're not the only ghost that haunts this place.
The day you left, you took my home with you.
Now the town where I grew up just confuses me.
All I do these days is get on my bike
And ride for hours looking for something familiar.
But these buildings are all half-dead amputees
And these people look at me like I'm terminal.
I'm told to move on but I just run circles
Around this little stretch of broken track.
But if I'm the only piece that doesn't fit,
Then please tell me, where do I go?
Please tell me, where do I go?