Sometimes home is not a house,
Its not a person,
Sometimes home is a world,
Hidden in hundreds of pages,
Sometimes home is a book,
Holding all your secrets,
Sometimes home is a mug of coffee,
Filled with your feelings,
Sometimes home is your pillow,
Wet with all your tears,
Sometimes home is a bathroom,
Harboring all your silent screams.
YOU ARE READING
The word spill of a messed up mind.
PoetryAs the title suggests, its basically just a bunch of poems or snippets that pop up in my head. ❤ You are that best selling poetry I never got to write, but could only read and fall in love in love with. ❤
