What is home? I ask myself, as I lay in my bed, Under the warm cozy comfort, Of my blanket. Is this what home feels like? I interrogate the sweet silence, of my room, Curled up like a newborn baby. Winds whirring against the window, Curtains cuddling against the walls, Like my clothes hung on the wall bracket. Is this home? Four walls, no calls, And a waterfall, Of books and picture frames. Soaking all in, I close my eyes, As the chill of the night, boards me to my flight, Of peace, Sleep. Will I wake up, home? Where the dawning sun kisses my eyes, And my feet touch cream ceramic. The music of my mother yelling, And that of my father, and my brother, synchronizing, As breakfast is served, Dinner, loved. The aroma of every meal, Wafts from room to room, Till it hugs the walls, And makes love to my sense of smell. Guests, dressed in their best, And laughter echoing from ceiling to ceiling, With oceans accumulating, of joyous feelings. Am I home? Where TV commercials and family serials, Paint the walls with their light, And my parents are worried, That I've not returned, from that birthday bash, Now, that it's half past twelve. This is the one place I dwell, When I'm ill or well, Be it with family, Be it alone, I feel best when I am nowhere, But home. Yes, this is home. I am home.
Love is like salt It needs to be just right; Giving too much of it is frowned upon - "Being too clingy," most call it. We give so much to fill their void While no one is there to fill our own That now keeps growing. Sometimes it's not their fault; Being given so much freely everytime Could be overwhelming, And having to accommodate someone else in life Seems like too much of a burden. At least , that's what they tell themselves To sleep at night. But the truth is - it's a human flaw, People often just do take a good heart for granted.
On the other hand, loving too little seems quite, But there's noone that's ever had the chance. It's so; one who loved too little, Is one who just never loved at all. But even if you could love too little, it'd be foolish to try. See, though in loving too little It seems you'll hurt no one, trust me, You'll hurt yourself and usually You'll hurt them too. First, you'll have to hide So no one will notice your true feelings. Even if you don't want your efforts acknowledged (Which is unlikely), these feelings will grow Till you can't hide them anymore. You may keep hurting and pushing everyone away But one day you'll realize you need someone And something more, but it'd be too late And there'd be no one to give you a chance. So you'll have to live with a growing hunger and void still.
See, love too is poisonous - Hearts break, when it's not in the right amount.