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You Are My Home
Walking in a paradise 
 Why does this hurt?
 Because the paradise you left me in
 Isn’t perfect without you.
 It’s an empty desert,
 Nothing near or far.
 May I write this poem?
 And perhaps one day
 An archeologist will find it
 And wish my soul a peaceful exeunt.
 But for now, I will suffer.
 Maybe an individual will come and rescue me.
 But I doubt it.
 I wait, as nothing goes according to plan.
 Leave and take your peace,
 But I will gradually grow insane
 Then I won’t be able to tell the difference
 Between you and pain.

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