Home is not a person
Nor is it a longing
I am terribly fearsome
I die in this forlonging
For the girl I once knew
Had died in battle for love
Love took her to the depths and spewed her out in pieces nothing left but two
Her soul is that of a dove
Pure white and trying for escapism
In these words I write dying she longs to leave this prism
No one could phantom
How she daydreams through this melancholy anthem
That is life
Because all she's known is how to be someone's wife















