I felt homeless
even though I had two houses.
I asked myself,
why do I always have to pack a bag
to go to the next house.
I never really felt at home in either place.
Of course I appreciated the bed
hardened by years of my emotionless body
but I never had a home within range.
My real home is 2120 miles away from my house.
Sadness is just about the only thing I experience,
beside the anger in my parents for their sickening divorce
beside the loneliness that hallowed me into a stone heart
beside the nostalgia I crave to be at peace again
for the first time in fourteen years.