Why is it that this strange place feels more like home than my house?
These unfamiliar streets hold me closer than my spouse,
It’s quiet like a mouse in my head for once.
All these questions dissipate with no response,
It’s like I stepped off the plane and I stepped into the one place I always belonged.
So now I’m wishing going home could be prolonged,
Don’t want to step back into gunfire,
But life is a job where you can’t retire.

© Akeem Rowe, Kingsinister, 2016

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