Home was supposed to…

How many times have you built a home,
in how many places,
In how many moments,
in how many people?
Don’t you get bored? Or tired?
especially when you’re one of the snails making it.

One big round stone that requires minimum 10 hands and 50 motivational speeches each day to lift it.
Rolling through life
making where you could
not where you wanted.
The morning drudgery work again,
calling an unknown ground home at night.

How many times your smartwatch will tell you how far you are from home..
How many times you’ll change favourites in Google maps.

Home wasn’t supposed to change so often.
It was supposed to be warm, clingy, run-of-the-mill, home-baked-cake-fragrant walls.
where no one could see you clenching your teeth or curling toes.

Home was supposed to sing
and nod along your shaky tunes.
And the roof to protect you from thunderstorms,
from up and beneath.
It was supposed to make you wanna do forbidden things
without having to give up on your easy happiness.
A fairy land with huge moons
not a dim lit room with melting wax.

Home- all the beauty and the flowers;
and you, looking from afar like a wandering star.

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