home is where the heart is
like a kid in a candy store im told by myself , you could look but you cant touch.
embraced the feeling of an outcast sometimes i feel like the only lonely hand with no other reaching out to clutch.
i take a deep breath and then i sye.
windows to the soul is out of my control to open and close but im no stranger of peeking in between my curtains and blinds.
good guys finish last and sense their the last men left standing how can i not question how long do they have to stand alone?
its said home is where the heart is so what can be called sanctuary if my heart became a rolling stone?
Copyright © mark brown | Year Posted 2016
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