An oft heard comfort phrase
But, as days pass by
There's a lack of this sweet space
Detached from the childhood
home, that houses memories
Adulthood brought with it
A spate of constant worries
Looking back at nooks and crannies
Secret hiding places, imaginary
Away from the prying eyes
Without a care in the moment buried.
As I do now, a place of my own
Constantly trying to make a home
Unsuccessfully, I break down
the constancy of yearning syndrome
Incomplete life remains now
Mechanically going through motions
There's never going to be
of despondence, a remotion.
PromptS
One
Two
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