There are people I push away.
There are people I tolerate.
There are people I try to ignore.
Then there are the people I keep by my side.
Threre's that one person I pray would stay.
Most times I wonder, what does it feel like to go home?
To be home?
The house i stay in doesn't feel that way.
I don't know how it should feel but it shouldn't feel like how I feel staying where I do now.
I imagine it would feel like how it felt in the place I take refuge in.
But I'm not there often enough.
That is also where i get intoxicated with my addiction.
But reality slams back into action the moment I leave those doors.
I wish I might, I wish I may. ..
I communicate with others from my fortress behind bars through heavily guarded windows.
I talk to you face to face with you by my side.
Sometimes I wonder if you scaled to walls to see me, or did you find the key I threw away?
Or was I the one who was so deeply charmed by you and let you in myself?