The City I Call It “Home”

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In the city I call it “home”, I don’t know who I am anymore

 

For some people who define their city as home, this is the story I could tell you about the city I call it “home”. It is not a perfect but probably an adorable one.


In the city I call it “home”, I still find nothing. I thought I could find what I believe I have been searching for but all I find is madness.
In the city I call it “home”, I am upset. I thought I could find the lights but the city has to much dimes that makes me blind.
In the city I call it “home”, I am wondering who I am and where I will go.
In the city I call it “home” where me and another millennials grown up, we still search for the meaning of being old with fame but no love.
In the city I call it “home”, skyscrapper and the old trees fight each other asking for some spaces.
In the city I call it “home”, I still feel wrong with all the chances not so many people could get.
In the city I call it “home”, I am afraid of things, particularly losing myself.
In the city I call it “home”, I laugh in some people’s misery.
In the city I call it “home”, me and society with their broken hearted stories are being told.
In the city I call it “home”, I walk beside some people begging for food or water.
In the city I call it “home”, me and John Mayer’s new album sing along the rain bringing some feeling of new home.


For some reasons, I think I finally get what I want but losing what I need. In the city I call it “home”, I feel irony.
I felt so big and could beat down the monsters but in the city I call it “home”, I am just a little girl trying to be a good one.

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