HOME

You made Home out of people. 

But look at you, you are here now, homeless.
They say home is where the heart is, 
So where should I go, finding mine, while 
you’re busy digging yours? 

In the time when I can catch dreams, 
I hear the clock ticking louder and louder. 
And I lay hopelessly romaticizing poetry
Staring at my recently decorated wall. 
But this isn’t home. 
I feel like a soldier now;
I long to go home. 

Home is where the heart is. 
And I hope mine keeps beating there. 

Author: happysoul7

A girl with a difference trying to fit into the changing world.

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