Where Home Is Not

Jul 02, 2010 23:45

Sometimes I feel like the lost child,
Searching for a home. I may come to your door
And ask you, 'Where is my home?' You may tell me,
'Don't worry, your home is here.' I will try hard to believe you
But in the end, you will make me leave.

For years, I will wander
Alone and hurting in the dark. I will find many doors.
Some will not answer. Others will not let me in.
Many more will send me away after promising to keep me.
And still I keep looking.

Someday I may find my home.
But luck and hope have all run out.
Faith keeps dying and being reborn in the flames
Like a pheonix born of it's grave. And still I go on.
Where do I belong? I may never know.
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