For in this place we find despair.

We find solace, we find love.

Raw feelings are exposed flesh

on the brutally carved heart.

We leave the cold and entire the fire.

This is the place where fallacy reigns,

and this, a cavern of familiarity,

is our beacon where despondency prevails.

Like a rose blooming for the morn,

a house blossoms out for our care.

And as we cross arms over our chests,

our memories weaken the fortress.

It’s only at home where we learn to fly.

Baby bird, falling from the nest, don’t cry.

We fall from our nest and we fall from heaven.

Tumbling from a haven is when

we realize that it was home we’re tumbling to.