Bags are packed
Vision impaired by tears
Emotions are stacked away from prying ears
The way you feel the heaviness of the heart
Is like sentimental constipation hoping for loves gentle fart
This place is not a home
No warmth or passion exist
Just grated memories
Of a false promise of subtleness
Rooted in the lies and devious nature of it all
Towers built on fraudulent trust all begin to fall
Suitcases are full closed and locked and tossed for the adventure
Of the heart of the nomad who travels away in hopes for true loves quencher