I can break through the surface of any place, but I can’t call it home. Tonight I offered to take you out of the city, but when I turned around, it was already on fire. I swear the ashes looked like snow and when I caught them on my tongue it tasted bitter. I just ask that you open your eyes before the storyline kills off my character. I’m not dead to you- I’m very much alive. I can break through the surface of any place, but I can’t call it home. You can feel the heat from the flames but still, I watch your shiver. And when you swung at me, your knuckles hurt. You felt pain too. So when you ask where I’ve been, or where I’m going, or what I’ll do- I’ll let the seeds that sewed me together fall gently back into the soil. Watch what happens when I feel worthy of blooming, even through torched fields. I can break through the surface of any place, but I can’t call it home.-AMT ©️