Lie with her turning head, going nowhere
Until a part of you starts looking underfed
F*ck eating good and sleeping well - this is home
This face of scars and cuts still wonders
"What if we had been more?"
"Oh God, what is in men that makes us susceptible to the disease
Of wanting more? Was content a virtue too grand
Bestowed upon but few?
With restless lips, I ask of you the clairvoyance and strength
To see and know this is home"