I’ve returned to these four white walls
In which I first learned about a spirit’s fall
In which my virginity was taken
In which my reality was broken
And all the words I wrote
Make it feel like a purgatory
And mother’s haunting wrath
Made a prisoner out of me
I’ve come back home
Where the blankets are sewn
I’ve come back home
Where my being is strewn
Sunflowers and loves of a lifetime
I’m surprised tears didn’t drown my rhymes
The tree outside the window in Spring
Just brings to mind its annual dying
Moods started spiraling
And suicide became intriguing
Maybe in my return
There will be some kind of ending
I’ve come back home
Where the blankets are sewn
I’ve come back home
Where my being is strewn.