Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.
Home? What is home you say? Well, when you’ve moved once for nearly every year you’ve lived Home is the roam The roaming, not just from house to house
By Atomic Historian5 years ago in Poets
While you slept The howling wind wanders through the room Roaming for an ear to listen As it hisses its tune, born of doom
Oh, father, my father How I yearn for your presence How I toddle in your steps No longer worthy of your presence I dwelt in your house at dawn
