I'm pressed upon At rising levels.... At vocals,at thoughts At breaths and now at beats. Little had I known; That consent meant lack of choice, An achy uterus and silent cries. And numerous nightmares With open eyes!
Home to me is what heaven is to the living beings. Home to me is what peace is to the soul. Home to me is what trust is to the love. Home to me is what freedom is to the bird. Home to me is what emotion is to the relation. Home to me is what thought is to the mind. Home to me is what pen is to the writer. Home to me is what creativity is to the art. Home to me is what diary is to the traveller. Home to me is what placenta is to foetus.