Much like that one flicker of a dying a candle,
Much like that one last scream, before you can handle,
Much like a hug before goodbye.
Much like a smile that makes it all alright.
Is the feeling of home, I often miss that.
I miss it in my room,
I miss it when strange walls close in.
I miss it in those ceaseless moments of panic.
I miss it in the last verse of my favourite song.
I miss it, when I am at my worse.
I miss it when there are no pillows to break my fall.
I miss it when my scars get hurt again.
I miss it when I can feel the rain.
And it’s been too long,
Since I have been home.
– Sabah Batul