Where am I?
I am at home.
I am on earth.
I am in my home city.
I’m in a dome.
I’m in two domes.
Earth’s dome.
My own dome.
This dome is my home.
A dome molded out of my regrets.
Shaped out of my sins.
Sculpted out of my fears.
Hollowed using my hate.
Polished using my lies.
This dome is my home
This dome is in me.
Shaped like a skull.
It is my skull.
It’s used to carry my mind.
To cradle my brain.
Inside this dome built of my doubts is positive.
The definition of positive resides in this dome of pain.
This dome is my home.
I have a hammer.
I named my hammer.
I named my hammer “Friends”.
I named my hammer “Family”.
I named my hammer “Art”.
I named my hammer everything but my regrets.
My sins.
My fears.
My hate.
My lies.
My doubts.
My hammer is also my pain.
This dome is my home.
I can’t keep living in this dome.
I raise my hammer.
I shudder.
I’m afraid.
What do I do after?
What next?
Where should I live?
Where would my home be?
This dome is my home.
No.
No, no it isn’t.
I will have to take the risk.
Life is a risk.
A gamble of fate.
This dome is my home.
I bring down the hammer.
The hammer named everything but my negative energies.
The glass shell shatters.
The pieces scatter.
I am free.
I look around me.
A world.
A canvas.
I look over a hill.
I breath.
This dome is my home.