The Cairene

In every home, the family members complete the place's ambiance of safety and warmth. Everyone has their fingerprint on the place and leaves a piece of their soul around. To me, I like to think that homes have stronger souls than humans, and that's why when a member leaves for any reason, I imagine the place and air weeping after they are gone. And it could be true because grief usually takes over and tasteless days feel longer. Happiness is usually replaced by indifference or grief, the place feels soulless and it becomes a 'house' rather than a 'home'. God gave us our souls and we give a part of us to our homes. *On a side notes, I'd like to add that home doesn't has to be a place. It could be a book, a hug, a kiss, a song, a melody, a street or poem. It's anything which you can make you feel safe. Also, I hate to break it to you, but you can't find home in people. You just can't. They will either leave and make you feel homeless, or you...

We keep needing things in lives and never get them. We keep getting getting other things in live and stop needing them. It makes us humans, but. I have been trying to think of something to write after 'but' and nothing to be jotted down. I think it's the humans' nature of wanting things or losing interest in whatever they own? We wait. We wait for many things, knowing that we are wasting hell of time of another things, but we wait. We wait for things we know that's not going to happen and things that we know we will never be getting; so much time wasted, but we still wait. I don't get the point of waiting because to me, the only thing worth waiting is basically a flight out of this place or for angels to take me by the hands. I wait.  I'm not quite sure why we aren't so concerned about time even though it's never on our favor, but what? We wait and waste some more time. Yes, I wait for too many unrealistic things and it's not even funny. Lately,...

“Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he called it "Chops" because that was the name of his dog And that's what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and a gold star And his mother hung it on the kitchen door and read it to his aunts That was the year Father Tracy took all the kids to the zoo And he let them sing on the bus And his little sister was born with tiny toenails and no hair And his mother and father kissed a lot And the girl around the corner sent him a Valentine signed with a row of X's and he had to ask his father what the X's meant And his father always tucked him in bed at night And was always there to do it Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines he wrote a poem And he called it "Autumn" because that was the name of the season And that's what it was all about And his teacher gave him an A and asked him to write more clearly And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door because of it...