Take Me Home

Its nostalgia

 

Weeds, that's what they want.
Wilted flowers, walking weeds.

That is what they want of me.

 

Sometimes, I go somewhere and hide.

Their thorns pierce and sear through my cover
Pricking, tearing and hurting the pride I carry.
Each day, stones, hard and round pelt at me.
Senye leee! Did you call for me from across the desert?
This loneliness wants to listen to your voice.

Have I wandered off too far and can’t find my way back?
I’m like a destitute with no creed, no power to own.
This hot wind rages like a fire, interminable.
Where is the end of their hate?

I've lost far more than I can offer.
Only memories of “the place I call home” keep me alive.
I've given up far too much of me than I can take home.

Senye leee! Are you not the swirling wind?

I can go nowhere and hide anymore.
Just take me Home.