• Lost in the world I called home, i run and run deeper in to familiarity.
    I lose myself in photographs and memories.
    Friends and families smiles etched permantly on paper.
    Sad memories are forbidden behid the lense.

    A journal scratched with ink,
    hastily scribbled thoughts and recolections from previous weeks, months
    and days.
    All emotions are welcomed on paper.

    My soul poured out over the pure white of a crisp page.
    The worlds words transcribed in my own sentences;
    Are visable only to me.
    Unless a lock and key can shout to the world my works.

    The house I've called home has warm and cold thoughts.
    The apartment I know call home,
    Is like a page..
    Its fresh and new, and the memories start to pile on the walls in frames.

    But, with every pro comes a con.
    With its face desgiused with friendship.
    It hasn't stabbed me in the back yet...
    ...But it will.....