Justice, Fucker

If you get burned by the same people I warned you about and told you to stay away from in the very first place, AGAIN, then I must say this to you: You deserve every fucking second of it. I hope it was worse the second time around. And I can strum nothing into your wounds apart from the sweet, sweet chords of justice. A long time coming and much deserved justice. Bitch.

Home?

I go to work. I sing along to the music that swims from my radio the whole way home. But as soon as I pull into the driveway I'm hit with a sinking feeling. This isn't home. It's a roof. But it's not a home. It's empty and it's cold. and most of all, it's lonely. It's shelter, but it's not home. And every day the distance grows farther and farther and I long for nothing more and nothing harder than to find a place I can call home. To find a place where I feel warmth. To find a place where I feel welcome. To find a place I can call my own; where I can finally, call home.