& happiness,

happiness is like an old home ive never visited

the one we see in dreams

like the ones on ivy-bridged hills

like the ones in cold breezes that gives birth to shuddering hearts

& sadness,

sadness is like that broken road to a broken home

it is misfortune disguised as your biggest familiarity

its like that rubble ridden road to the airport

I am so afraid of the rumble of engines

its like the gravel on a ghost carpeted floor

echoing with footsteps of a child

child with broken teeth

child that is fast-forwarded entropy now

& roofs,

roofs i may have over my head

but,

whats a home when roofs cant shelter you from the blizzard right underneath it?

tell me.

whats it like?

when familiarity is your biggest fear?

like how the door to your childhood home reminds you of being trapped in forever

or how the sunset through the ***** window only reminds of you of how blind youve been

because I

I am tired of fighting past the empty  alleyway haunted by ghosts I cant forget

I am tired of the cold blizzard that freezes my words

I am tired of the asphyxiating snowstorms that anesthize my breath
I am tired of the broken past and-

thats okay.

because;

the cold wind blisters my lungs but sometimes its the only thing that reminds me im still pretty much alive

now, its only time

that i get to the home ive never visited to dig up the grave you buried my innocence

and finally reclaim

what has always been mine.