Oh how I long for my place again,
my own safe place.
Where none but I could walk free.
See the pain and blood drain.
I built its walls of mansion amidst broken toys.
Where the windows always opened bright in my ever changing seasons.
Where the rain washed my dry and dusty feet,
where I lay for my peaceful slumber sleep.
Sometimes underneath the closed staircase,
where light peeped only through holes from its damp wooden walls.
Or up in an attic where I was close enough to touch the sky.
Or in the trees with a thousand little friends on every yellow leaf.
Where my closed eyes would take me,
where nothing could ever harm me.