Home

They say its where the heart is.

Mine must be broken and shattered,

A billion jagged pieces scattered.

Ground into the sand of beaches,

Who’s beauty was blocked by melancholy.

Home is smashed like bottles on the side of the highway,

Leaving tiny puddles of beer residue,

growing mildew.

Shards stuck in tire grooves of passing cars.

It’s buried deep like treasure,

but it’s just a dirty secret.

Under murky water where the fish don’t even swim,

And dungeon like basements where few will dare to go.

It’s caked under the front seats of your car,

like that milkshake that spilled and dried up,

The sour smelling stain that nobody can blot away.

Stuck to you like glitter that never comes off.

Ashes pouring out of the fire-ring the morning after a storm.

It’s in all the places that make you cringe,

Because you’re alone,

But know you’re being watched.