A real estate agent, a mechanical engineer
A searcher, a creator
Make up my home
What is a home?
I stumble up the age-ridden stairs
To where I greet my next wave of insanity
The smell of incense overwhelms me
I have to be a neutral ground among
I bury myself in words, precious thoughts
To drown out the atrocities
Breathe in, breathe out
Like a pump desperately trying
Trying to take the torment
Trying to bring life into something dead
A constant, infinite breath
Like an anchor in a whistling sea
I begin to wonder if it will ever end
Is my escape just a ruse?
I’ll still hold on to the people I want to make proud
Because they wish me the best.
Even after everything
My house will be the only thing that feels like home
I’ll count down the days
Until I stumble down my age-ridden stairs
But I know that I’ll think back
And I won’t look back to the atrocities or insanities
I’ll look back to the experiences, the strength
I’ll look back to the hope