In His Home

There was a man.
Who lived in a home on top a hill
He lived alone
He watched the birds come by his house
He watched kids playing outside his home
He wondered what it was like, to chase after that ball
There wasn’t much to say
He was a man of a few words
He used to think he was looking for something
But years passed in that home
And he finally realized that it was all probably a dream
How could he have never found it
After all these years
It must have been a dream
His mom died when he was a kid
So he learned to cook and clean at the age of 5
He taught himself to read
And writing was natural
His father
He never really gave his father much of a thought
But in the end
He knew he was his father’s son
This man was handsome
His hair was black
His eyes were sharp
But he never looked into a mirror
He never knew of a mirror
He used to cry
He wasn’t afraid of tears
But he was afraid of the reasons
He didn’t know why he cried
But he was
No one gave him glance, or so much as a reason
But maybe that was why he cried
But when he cried, his eyes glistened
He never knew it was beautiful
His glassy eyes
He was upset
But he was also
He thought he was the happiest man
But he didn’t know anyone else
So he was the happiest man
This man listened
He listened to himself
He listened to his voice
Telling him to leave the home
The home on top of the hill
The home where he could see the birds
And the kids chasing the ball
To leave his home that never meant anything to him
To leave the only thing that could mean something to him
This man was never trapped though
There were no keys in his home
No locks
He was free
But because he couldn’t even find
The one thing he was looking for in his home
The thing he thought was a dream
He couldn’t just leave
He couldn’t find it
But he knew he needed it
He knew he would die if he left without it
It was that simple
This man didn’t have wants
He was a little empty inside
A little hollow
But so was his home
So he couldn’t tell the difference
So it was all right
But because he didn’t care
He wasn’t perfect
Because he couldn’t find it
He wasn’t perfect
He was just a man
The one man
On top of a hill
Looking down
At everyone else


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