Home

I look around and I see everyone, so happy together, and I know that they are Home. I see the people who know who they are, and what they do, and I realize they are Home. I watch the people who help others, or hinder others, and know they are Home. I watch as people laugh and I watch as people cry, I watch as life continues or even ends, and everyone feels simply, at Home. Yet as I look around I realize, I am not Home. Home has been escaping me ever since the war, running from me, and as I sit here, I ask the question should I chase it? Perhaps I will never be Home, perhaps I am cursed to watch as others find Home, while I am left Alone.