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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