Home is not where you are but where you belong
but I can't seem to find it anymore,
And you'll float upon the beach like a sort of wasted space
And I wish they cared about you the way they care about me,
I guess people won't talk unless it shines,
glimmering pieces of idiocracy rhymes,
"Sing it out loud now,"
I tried looking in the mirror once,
it turns out it was a TV,
Home is not where I am but where I should be,
I think heaven is not real and god lives in me
within the restraint to kill myself and starting a fucking mobbery.
YOU ARE READING
FACELESS
Non-FictionCome along and live many lives. The Faceless have laid their secrets just for you; their stories and conversations filled with life drip from the pages; guard this book close to your heart, for your secrets might be on it too.
