RSTITMIWW (2) - MISLAID
To be quite honest, I haven’t put much of thought into this one or any piece in this series. Much like the notes app on your phone, I just like to randomly write about what I’m thinking or feeling at the time; all in hopes that no one would ever see it. Who knows where any of these will go, or where they’ll take me, but where they won’t end up living empty on my phone taking up storage: that’s for some random sever to handle now.
To be fair, I miss home. I miss the blossoms of spring. I miss the morning doves chirping in outside of my window, waking me up at the crack of dawn. I miss watching the sun rise on top of all of your manufactured mountains, The orangish glow that makes it way down the road. I miss looking out of my window, looking down at the people walking by. I miss the sounds of the train stopping nearby, the loud shrieking of pieces of metal sliding along each other. The round wheels shaving along the top each of the train tracks. I miss the flowers that used to bloom along this time of year. Along the cracks of the pavement, and of the building foundations, they some how manage to grow. More than just the flowers, the trains, the people, and building, there is no place like home, and i miss it more than ever.
