still wandering


home - such a foreign notion.
i've long forgotten what defines a home
a place to rest when i'm weary?
a place of everlasting warmth?
a place of safety, free from judgment?
perhaps to some, that's what greets them
when they walk through the door
for me, however
i have never known such a place
that wasn't embedded within
another's soul

isn't it a tragedy?
building homes in people,
when people are temporary.

perhaps it's a reminder
that this is one misfortune of being alive
and if so, i suppose
i do not mind breaking myself apart
if it means i am able to feel
a sliver of warmth, a sliver of hope
a fleeting moment of believing that maybe
just maybe
i do belong here.

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