home is not where you belong.
sometimes,
we get so lost,
not in the middle of the road,
of a place so unknown,
so strange,
so foreign
sometimes,
it takes place
somewhere
out of air
full of nerves
filled with systems
we get lost,
inside the area
where we should
acquiant the most
but more than sometimes,
we get lost in both
your favorite street
and your wondrous mind.
we find it so difficult to just live
or survive
or both
we put our own hindrances
own traps
without us even knowing
i am a writer
of fictional stories
i also believe
that narrations
are somewhat i could
a home
but look at me now
writing a poetry?
can't tell
all i can say
is i am just letting the words flow
because i was so lost
and not even home can find
my missing soul
