Poem: Nowhere

Tears are no longer falling.

The water has run dry.

The dust is taken a new home.

A home I can no longer call.

The wounds that built me lives in the walls, of the dreams I slept.

The sound of a storm still makes me silent.

Scared to make a noise before getting struck with the lighting.

The place that held my back but took it all.

This place is not mine.

This is a dream that I do longer can see.

The hurt is living in the walls to tell another.

This is just a holding until the next.

Poem: Place

Everyday has become the same.

There is nothing new to report.

There is nothing new to say.

I wake up and do what is need, but never what is required.

The day starts early, but it ends the same with me being alone.

I used to run home to see you, but now I no longer can.

I try run away, but my feet are planted to soil.

This is where I must belong.

I come to this place that has no soul, and no life left to live.

The streets that lead this way no longer bright up the day.

The sanctuary that we made has turn into jungle that is filled with memories.

Memories that are slowly drifting away.

The ones that made us cry.

The ones that kept us up late at night.

The tears that came from laughter to the sorrow of watching the kids slip away.

Then it became the place where you last spoke.

The last place I told you I love you.

Now it is the place where I miss you.

This was our place this was our home.

This place is no longer my home.

It is no longer our home.

This is no longer our place.

Poem: Home

This place is not what it was.

It had everything that dreams made.

The love that walks down the street lives in the valley of hope.

This lives in your soul and gives you all that life has.

Then you leave and things start to change.

Nothing is the same, yet it feels right.

This is where you were made.

This is where your love was given time to grow.

The people were there to hold your hand.

Now you must go.

The one thing that hold you down is knowing that this will always be home.

Poem: Home

It is time to go.

Back to the place that holds too much.

The spot where bridges are built and where they have been broken.

This is the places that knows me more than I could ever know myself.

I want to walk the streets that have no end.

I want to sit and watch the cars pass me by.

Go to end and just stand and listen to whatever sound the road bring.

Then travel the roads that are hidden in the dirt.

Look both ways, but still too afraid to cross the street.

I want to stand where the trees no longer barre shade.

The dirt roads lead to an adventure that you could never see.

The travels are long, but time is gone before it even began.

Where the houses are far away, but they feel so tight together.

This place holds everything, but it never got full.

Everyone knows you, but no one knows your name.

This is where I want to go.

Home.