Outside Home lies a world within reach. I visit sometimes. Though its bright, cheery colors turn my stomach. The sun is warm, yet I long for the comfort of the cold. People smile an empty smile. A mask contorted of hidden suffering amongst its victims. Normal is normal. To ask for help is illogical, yet invisible chains hold me back, just long enough to gasp for innocent breath. Twisted words and dark secrets lay in locked abyss’. I return Home embraced in continual fury of fists, to linger in Home’s presence is a death wish. Death is my friend, my one comfort.