In four days
I go back to the place I was born
I have not been there lately
There are pieces of me
That can never leave there
I was the only one who tried
I do not know if these pieces lived
Lived, died or dissipated
I am not there to observe
I am somewhere beyond
Will this place welcome me
When I return
A familiar road
A friendly face
A sweet summer smell
A sour taste
Perhaps it will not know me at all
This I understand
I know much of holding bitterness
In vacant space
Much of forgetfulness
I do not know much at all
Only that home and I are stubborn strangers