Where do you run to lay your head if you always have to hold it up?
    I get homesick in my house.
    I get homesick in my town.
    I get homesick in my head.

    A salient “spot-the-difference” to my Memories.
    The Paths of the Past paved over with cement.
    The Secrets of the Ancient Wooden House trampled to the ground.
    The Golden Hue of the streetlamp snuffed out and lost to the day.
    The Mighty Roar of the Exalted Pines choked, breathless.

    A screaming lamentation to the living dead.
    Why do you only look up? 
    Why do you only look down?
    Why do you never look somewhere in between?
    Why do I only see rain?
    Why do I only see sun?
    Why do I never see the refracted colors?
    Why do we only wait out the storm?
    Why do we only curse at the thorns?
    Why do we never… 

    I get homesick in my head.
    Nothing is as it was.
    Not for better or worse.
    Just simply changed.

   
    Why do we always change?