I ran away from the place I call home. To me home is just a mere dust that I happen to have a glimpse every now and then. My home is inhabited by power and jealousy. I have nowhere to go but this monotonous city. I have escaped from the fiery flames of pain, loss and betrayal. All I am left with are scars that are hidden to the naked eye and a piercing pain every now and then from the wounds that are yet to be healed.
I settled to this droning city where I thought would be a place I could repair my broken self. At first this place was perfect. Quiet, peaceful, I could hear no cries, no lies, no gossips, and no rumours that circled faster than the wind blew. But what I thought was a perfect place was nothing more than a flower you have taken out of the bush, its beautiful at first but give it time, it will turn dry and dead. Still there is an escape, I close my eyes and there I saw, warmth and comfort that I have been longing to feel. I opened my eyes and I saw people pointing, ridiculing, undermining, and judging me. I was surrounded by anonymous people. I call them anonymous, I don't know them and they don't know me and yet they mark me, they mark me with false pretences that they have conjured in their heads.
My wounds bleed my scars opened, I struggle to compose myself. There at a corner of my eyes I saw someone she wrapped my wounds with words that warmth my cold aching body, she was from a place that I thought was mere dust. My wounds are healing. I sat in class with the rest of the anonymous people, I could hear them whisper, and I could hear those passing judgements. Silence fell in the room, I felt someone cover my ears, and she is someone from the place I thought was inhabited by power. My wounds are drying. I attempted to be closer to one of the anonymous, but I was pushed away, I fell but I fell to the arms of who I thought was from the place who gave me scars. I seek for comfort to a home of an anonymous but I was not welcome. I turned away and there was he who came from the place I thought was inhabited by hate. He welcomed me in his arms with the rest of the people whom I thought were gone.
Home is just a mere dust that I happen to have a glimpse every now and then. Here I am looking across the horizon wishing I was there. It is the place where I belong, a place of security, shelter and love. For now I will settle for memories to comfort me. To shield me for what are yet to come for home is where people who care are waiting for me to return
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