warmth

The more I live here the more I long to go back home.

It baffles me how i want to go back to the one place that gave me pain. A place filled with walls that hid my voice that was filled with tears, a place from which i could never reach anyone. To always be hidden.

I sometimes wonder if I have truly left that place behind, i wonder if I left a part of myself too.

There is a bit of warmth associated with the word home for me, one that I question frequently.

If that broken place can't be called home, do i have any place i belong?