a house is a house when it's got
a proper foundation and walls and a roof.
a house becomes a home when people
decide to infuse it with a soul.
these fragile beings give a purpose
to a foundation,a wall or a roof-
everything comes alive when life itself is allowed
to take roots.
that's why I don't like empty rooms-
they always give off a perfume
of insecurity and longing on still emotions.
alone!I feel alone surrounded by barren materials,
where there's no echo to listen to or return,
even more lonesome than usual...
and I give in to a state of perpetual disdain,
tired from doing nothing,
exhausted by a sentimental drought
that will not go away...
in the end,the decisions you make
are the ones which prove it's real-
but I still can't shake off this horrible
taste in my mouth and this incomplete
sense of existence...
a house is just a house.
a house can become a home.