StoneLion's Writings

Tell Me

I want you to tell me

tell me, tell me

where is my house?

Get me out of this heat.

Connect the dirty patches

of my memories.

I have to go home

and wash my windows,

clean everything

so in the midst

of this revolution

that's about to begin

I have the warmth

of my house

to shield me

from your brokeness

and the reality you insist

upon living in.