Home is where the heart is.
Where do you go if you have no heart?
The end is where the start is.
How can you proceed.
Without a fully motorized engine?
The inanimate body still bleeds.
How can we function and operate.
Without a soul purpose?
Love and pain refuse to cooperate.
Life becomes incomplete
The journey becomes obsolete
Moist tears long for the concrete
Subjected to fragility
Invades our organic vicinity
Our insides become hollow
Our anonymous journals filled with sorrow
And there will be no good morrow