I feel you have a hate for me
I feel you regret being with me
I feel you regret meeting me
I feel you regret my existence
I feel loss
I feel sad
I don't want to feel.
He may forget me too
He may regret me too
He may hate me one day too
Why am I alone?
Why do I only have my hand to reach for?
Why don't you even give me the courtesy to even let me know that I should give up on finding you, in these cities with no people?
Everyone is there
but everyone is not here
or there.
It is crowded
Here,
There,
Everwhere;
but it is also empty
Here,
There,
Everywhere.
Where is my Home?
What makes a Home?
Is is somewhere where they are?
Is it somewhere that makes you happy?
Is it somewhere that makes you feel safe?
Is it just a place?
Is it just an attachment to where you are?
Is it available to me?
.
