A place to call home.

Perhaps it was subtle, perhaps it was feigned– It had been quiet, a drop of disdain. The thicket of smoke, the drip of glory, A hero’s tale, now seemed so gory. I could not sleep, I could not think, Anxiety grasped me with its wryly wink. A bubbling, endless, gargle of insanity, a chipped gaping hole– that could’ve once been called humanity. Perhaps it was time, perhaps it was needed, Packing my bags, and waving like it was heeded. Stepping down against the grassy dew, The soft grazing sheep flocking anew. The heat of a fire, the coolness of water, A bubbling sense of understanding around me– Of those who were slaughtered.