When your racing heart cries for a moment of solace
When the emerging pain enveloped as thoughts fill your mind
Home, is the place you want to run to
When your shoulders fall dropping the weight they’ve been carrying
When your arms subconsciously stretch wanting someone to hold you
Home, is the people you wish were near you
When you close your eyes at the end of a long day
When you picture the place you feel most at ease in
Home, is the place your mind takes you to
Sometimes in the form of bricks
Sometimes in the form of dreams
Sometimes in the form of people
Home is as rare as the horizon that stretches in the distance
About the author
Life is a silent illusion
Life is a silent illusion. When I wake up, in the gap of time, I think of those past events that seem far away again. Perhaps everyone has a city in their heart, where the undead are buried. There are their own stories, their own scenery, far or near, happy or sad, and then choose to forget or bury.
By Saleha Nova6 days ago in Poets
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