Constantly trying to find a way home,
promises paved with lies,
hidden messages that fade into darkness,
the truth no longer true,
lost somewhere inside you,
freedom a woman,
filled with hatred from my mistakes,
my curse,
my sin,
my awakening,
your smile that once set my heart a flutter,
adorns your face,
while you dig my hole.
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The Twisted Roads To My Madness 
‘Constantly trying to find a way home.’ I’ve read this over a few times, it feels so sad. One of those beautiful piece that fit a mood.
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The loss of identity, the self discovery, the goodbye of what once was you, buried never to be whole once more. I think in the sadness, hides hope, but the context, ah, the context of where your mind places it, gives it a life of it’s own.
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It’s true. Destruction and creation can’t be pulled apart.
I just watched the news, mate, too much sadness in my mind.
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