the truth
in just being
is proof that i am real
but i cannot say
the same is so
for the things that i do feel.
meanwhile the cogs
and gears of time still turn
and my life do they steal.
all the while i am
trying to find
some place while i do roam
the place where i
feel i can die
a place solid as stone
it is the place where i
will settle down
the place i will call home.
but in this heart
among the blood and veins
many memories do i keep.
some bright as day,
some black as night,
some that cause this heart to weep.
but when i find my home,
i'm sure of it now,
i will bury them on that street.
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