Home
Home
Like dry bones I thirst for home
My body loans for a place
Where everything seems normal
A place where the red sky meets the sun burnt ground
A place where you hear the sound of wild horses that roam without care.
A place that dares to stair at your emotions.
A place of culture and history
A place where You can hear the whaling cries of my ancestors as the white man pulled there children from their death like grips.
A place where you hear the echo of guns and cracking of whips that ring though trees And down hills
Why. Why do I lone for home
The place where I hear the cries that makes you so depressed that you fore sake yourself and you trace your vains wire. Never too deep never enough to scare But enough to fell the pain. Enough to feel the scream inside. Enough to almost make the cries stop.
Enough to make my spirit be at peace for them short seconds. So why... why do I loan for home. When the whole time I was there I had a vail of darkness over my head not letting me see the light...
why... why do I loan?
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