I dreamed of home last night.
I wish I could tell you of a place so overflowing
with love and happiness
that even you, a complete stranger,
would yearn to experience it.
But, I can't.
It was never a place but a feeling
that resided only within the corners
of my own sick mind.
My home is an Epitaph
written on the decaying walls
of a shattered psyche,
in memoriam of something long past.
Oct 9, 2021
Oct 9, 2021 at 11:11 PM UTC
I dreamed of home last night.
I wish I could tell you of a place so overflowing
with love and happiness
that even you, a complete stranger,
would yearn to experience it.
But, I can't.
It was never a place but a feeling
that resided only within the corners
of my own sick mind.
My home is an Epitaph
written on the decaying walls
of a shattered psyche,
in memoriam of something long past.