The road back home feels longer these days,
Each mile paved with unpaid bills and dreams on layaway.
I count dollars like prayers, stretch them thin as light,
Trying to buy another week of sleep at night.
The world spins fast, but I move slow,
Carrying the weight of what I can’t show.
Pockets empty, but my mind stays loud,
Plans and promises, tangled and proud.
Sometimes I see home in the distance, faint,
Like a painting smudged with worry and restraint.
I remember the laughter, the quiet, the peace
Now I trade that for overtime and a short release.
Still, I walk.
Because hope doesn’t quit, it limps.
It keeps pace beside me when I’m spent,
Whispering that broken isn’t the same as bent.
One day, I’ll find my way back through the storm,
With lessons stitched where my heart was torn.
And maybe then, when the debts are paid and the noise is gone,
I’ll sit under my roof and finally feel, home.
Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 5:52 AM UTC
The road back home feels longer these days,
Each mile paved with unpaid bills and dreams on layaway.
I count dollars like prayers, stretch them thin as light,
Trying to buy another week of sleep at night.
The world spins fast, but I move slow,
Carrying the weight of what I can’t show.
Pockets empty, but my mind stays loud,
Plans and promises, tangled and proud.
Sometimes I see home in the distance, faint,
Like a painting smudged with worry and restraint.
I remember the laughter, the quiet, the peace
Now I trade that for overtime and a short release.
Still, I walk.
Because hope doesn’t quit, it limps.
It keeps pace beside me when I’m spent,
Whispering that broken isn’t the same as bent.
One day, I’ll find my way back through the storm,
With lessons stitched where my heart was torn.
And maybe then, when the debts are paid and the noise is gone,
I’ll sit under my roof and finally feel, home.