It seems like the days get longer, and my eyes get weaker. Looking for a place where I belong. Not a moment do I feel like I have a place in this world, that I can call my own; my home. Sometimes I sit and wish on the fading stars of the night, that mercy will surround me and send me flying home, to a place where I belong; a place I can call my own. Where the only thing you hear is laughter, joy and no fear. Free as the night wind howling through the trees, like a spotted owl lurking for its pray; you on your own can survive. The night shadows dont creep and have you calling, screaming in terror, you're completly satisfied. You feel like you can do anything, everything. The world is yours, in your hands, at your grasp. And you destiny is the fate calling out from the stars. The moon is your only friend, guiding you along your mid-night path, being led by a single shimmering moonlight, tracing you feet in the snow. Everywhere you go you seem to have a motionless, demeanor just taking the world in like a fresh cup of morning coffee. Jerking you from your drooping eyes, and sending you on a full alert mission, nothing can stop you. Time is you endless debate, only you can control it; like a pocket watch in your sturdy hands.