My home is where I'm happy.
Home is where the simple joys of childhood were born
And where its ghost lives today.
“It’s the simple things in life that count.” they say
But they never tell us where to find them.
I grew up with every crack on the back of my father’s hand imprinted in my brain.
The touch of the tough callus that forms over his whole hand,
I can feel it right now.
It is now a reminder of when happiness was easy to reach.
Seemed so easy, you could just grab it,
And now I can’t even see it.
“Growing up is just a part of life.”
Well it feels like an inevitable trap.
The simple things are the only things that mattered in my undefined life.
“Oh no, the dogs are getting muddy… without me!”
Suddenly turns into to,
“Oh no, the dogs are muddy and I have homework.”
I can see the ghost,
It's persuasion is suddenly so weak
As it used to be so mighty.
Responsibility is mightier.
“Simple seems so far.” I think to myself.
The power of responsibility has overcome another life on earth.
Although, it will not reach my heart.
It has now tried,
Many times,
Too many times.
Now I think, “What is simple?”
One might dare to say.
But what you can't see is the pouring out of stress that is bottled up within the walls of their skin.
Eventually life becomes more than just the responsibilities and the forgotten simple things.
It becomes the fright.
The expectations become too much.
The reality of living becomes a burden.
That some may not want to carry.
You must find ones that lift you.
You may see more through another’s eyes.
Finding peace through the learning of another’s fears.
You are not alone.
More than people are here.
Home is where you had to escape to find,
To find more.
My home is where I go back to stay happy.
Home is where my truly defined life was born.
I just had to leave to find it.