Homes never seem to change until you step back and see the chaos that you've lived with your entire life. But I found comfort in the pool of sadness because it's all I've ever known.
Soldiers walked down the streets. Their hands on their hilts. Their cold eyes watching everyone's every move. An innocent bystander walks by with their head down, afraid of their protectors.
Streets empty. The innocent children who once jumped for joy grew up too fast and now hid under the covers like the children they were. A kind of fear that traps them in a box sealed by their own hands.
People on edge. The whispers of anxiety in their ear never letting them go, not finding peace, until the end.
I continued down the familiar path in a foreign home.
My spot. My tree. The place I filled with music and joy was now a standing corpse with the lights I left behind like a ghost. Something to remember the past.
Like a grave.
