When everyone has left.
And I am left alone.
The empty house left behind,
Doesn't feel like home.
No arguments or complaints.
Or inside jokes are told.
Not a quiet moment can be savored.
Because silence means I'm alone.
I'm not a social person.
I lie in bed all day.
But knowing there's someone around,
Makes everything okay.
No matter how annoyed I get,
Or every punch I want to throw.
All these thing make up,
The place I call my home.
So as much as I myself complain,
Inside my head, or out.
All the things that I hate,
Are thing I simply can't live without.
YOU ARE READING
Across My Mind
PoetrySpontaneous poems I think of or that cross my mind. For me to share and yours to read.
