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Dreams of Home

I hate this house,
this house I'm meant to call home,
How can I?
How can they expect me to?

Strangers go in and out,
objects moved all about,
foundations crumbling by the day,
God, I wish I could run away!

I wish I could run away,
Run across the landscape,
through this city made of stone,
to lush emerald green hills,
The hills of my dreams.

But even if I cannot have that,
I just wish I had a home,
A home,
that I could call my own.
©2009 ~kubur-exonar
:iconkubur-exonar:

Author's Comments

Just some thoughts, spontanous ones, put down onto paper.

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July 3
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