Return home

It’s when I’m underwater, that I breach the surface of my soul

Unsure if I’ll crash upon the waves of what’s foretold

And some say that this life is just a meaningless black hole

If that’s the case, then who’ll redress the wounds that make me sore?

And I am not a preacher, nor am I the worst of sinners sowed

I’m somewhere in between, desperate to find my home

And it is not ‘this place’ of that I’ve become sure

My heart bears witness that desires are sandcastles in how they fall

And I’m quite sick of speaking with vagueness, yet here I go

My mind’s an enigma that enacts not enough of what it knows

And won’t admit it, but almost fatalistically yearns for depression’s throes

For at least there it knows the surroundings like the familiarity of death row

And this pessimism is quite the opposite of what’s in vogue

Amongst the can do attitude of successful folks

But who’s to say my words aren’t legacy enough to have this life let me go

Not out of pity, but out of a desire to return to my true home