Home was never really home,The only one I've ever known,
Is the structure that I carry, these bones.
While others walk through a familiar door,
My soul is constantly in the search of something more.
Aimlessly wandering around,
coming &going without a sound.
This anxious voice inside my head,
Demands to sleep in unfamiliar beds.
It will not rest until it learns,
exactly what it is it yearns.
Home is never really home,
So I will live inside these bones.
Until what is lost has been found,
boundlessly roaming around.
