My youth has been maxed out re-writing all types of resolutions for a broken home, a detailed and meticulous wreckage that was not my doing. Years that belonged to me, have been inserted into an accumulation of nearly a decade, in making up and compensating for mistakes that were never made by me. These are not my sins and blunders. These are not my worries to weigh me with age of every form. Life-changing sacrifices have been made on my part. What else am I lacking in the doing and the giving?

Home is where the heart is. Where's my heart?