Moth Harris - A Poem About 'Home'

A mind swept uneven
Across the hard wooden floor
Sure it's got a roof
and it's got a door
Can't call it home

A place to rest my mind
A place where the wind blows
and cools my nerves
Blows my stress away

Sadly I find it harder to obtain
A dry bed is where I've laid
And nothing else seems to matter
Because that's the life I portray

Comfort in small doses
Like a potion made for the heart
You are 'family' not 'home'
For you see my homes been torn apart

I can't seem to rebuild it
Any place I go
I can't find a place to rest my head
and call it my own

A place to go where I'm all alone
Only know that the wind has blown
and let it blow my stress away
but for now I don't feel at home

Moth Harris

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