Tuesday September 27th 2005, i invested in a book specifically for me Options

[RiddleMeWonders]

Tonight I feel compelled to just, simply as possible, write. Not caring if it's bad, because I know that in all possibility it will be very bad writing. Not from my head, not from that area which dictates whether something is what people will like or what will further render them to the conclusion that I am that which is not fit to be called a "writer." The only thing I've been able to truly, truly want to write about is home. Tomorrow I will write of her beauty, tonight I will write of my longing for her.

When may I go home?
To answer every simple question with my own is what I've been of
here in this city
in a strangers home
strange as I can be
and feeling alone

The tasks you put before me drove us all away
Waiting, here I am
Please forgive my words
I am grateful, please believe me
But I can't and don't want to stay

There the wreckage has been found
Lives have been shattered
Homes torn from their respective grounds
No matter what we do, where we go
Home stays on our lips
A word bringing both comfort and hope
It is home that forced me here
An now that calls me near
Though it will take some time
I still want,
We all want more than anything to go home.