Home Won't Be Home Any Longer

I don't feel my fingers in the cold,

but I feel them too much indoors.

I feel the bruises on my fingertips

from poking at the chest of

that old building, shouting:

"How dare you tell me I'm too old

and it's time to move on? How

dare you crumble when I am within

and tell me to find another?"

I stared at the bricks, silent

and felt a rock tumble at my feet.

I don't accept your gift nor

do I accept that you're dying,

but I guess you'll do it anyway.



(I didn't feel like waiting for midnight. I know you all understand. <3)