He buried his head in his between his legs,
The voices within him continue to yell,
Remember who you are, remember you’re my son.
Go back; go back to where you belong.
“How can I, God, he said out loud, and almost let out a sob.
I have been a junkie so long,
And who would want me back after the life I have led”,
He got up and walked about restlessly,
Desperately hoping to get a respite from the sounds in his head.
The paths seemed strangely familiar,
He walked down the driveway of a home,
Which resembled the one he grew up in,
He rang the bell,
Hoping to get one peek back into the memories which haunted him,
Like a shadow every moment he was awake.
A lady answered the bell,
She let the key drop which she was holding,
“Tim! She gasped, with trembling lips and ash white face,
Mum! He answered, holding her tight,
In between the tears, she whispered, “You remembered”,
He nodded, “God made me, by pounding my head”,
He made me, come home again!