Look around, everybody’s trying not to feel alone
Staring at their phones
Do they have a place to call home?
Everybody’s got a place to live
To work, to eat and to sleep
Do we have a place to plant love?
To smell sweet flowers with bees hovering above?
When we left home, the place where we grew up
Did we know it’ll become alien to us?
That we’ll have to always rush
To call someone our own?
How we try not to feel alone.
Is there a place where we all could be?
All the wanderers, through their heart if we could see
Is that a home? A place to laugh and sleep
Where we can wake up forever
To someone to wipe our tears when we weep.
Pushing ourselves to work late
So that we won’t have to think
And with every passing minute
One more smile we all sink.
And when the night comes outside
We hide behind the closed doors
And then we look around
It isn’t a place to call home.
We cover ourselves in comforts
To replace the Missing Good,
But the Missing Good is just Missing Good
It’s not sadness in our hood.
Is our company that boring
That we cringe when we are alone?
Or we need some motivation
To help move our lazy bones.
When we shut the windows with curtains
And binge watch a TV series
Or, perhaps read a book and imagine
That’s the closest to interaction we could be.
It’s not alone, as long as we are distracted
It’s not a home, as much as we have interacted
It’s not our generation to be blamed
We just have anxious hearts
For all the madness in the world
That’s trying to rip it apart.
At the end of the dusk, where night meets the moon
It’s just somebody’s love to crawl into
That’s our home, where we are not judged
Where blowing winds slamming windows don’t bother us;
‘Home is where the heart is,’ they say
And a heart is there where another one is,
Whether, then, it’s grass we lay on
Or the sand, on to sleep at night
A home is where two hearts are locked in the sight
Where nobody ever feels alone
No more staring in their phones
Where they could rest their bones
Hurt and broken by world’s sticks and stones.