Constantly searching for a home in someone yet to be known,
Desperately trying to avoid my own truth.
When the time comes,
Why do I still feel so unprepared, even now,
Even after this many failed attempts?
Owing my all to all whom I hurt
In the name of something far less than reality.
Hiding behind shadows,
Far from light.
Finding comfort in things ought to be feared.
An abode more disturbingly so.
Letting it consume my conscience,