Home For His Heart

Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction.

I still remember those good ol' days

when he was a happy young man.

We all used to love him.

We call him a friend.

He was always cracking jokes.

The smile never went away from his lips.

He always loved us all.

For us, he was a support, like an anchor cliff.


He always loved life.

He believed in colours, stars and fairytales.

He wanted to see them all.

So he always wished for ten decades of age.

But inside he was so lonely.

And nobody ever cared to read his eyes.

He was always in search of his home,

a place he always believed is 
Home for his heart.

He walked on that broken road so many times

in search of that home.

But he always found out

that there is nowhere to go.

He couldn’t sleep at nights.

Even drowning in whiskey wasn’t helping.

He always see nightmares

and the demon of his soul ripping his skin.

He was a strong man.

He never knew to shout, get angry or cry.

But inside he was getting all consumed.

He had started losing his fight.

Still he used to say to us,

“World is good and I’m always there for you”.

But nobody ever try to see,

inside what he is going through.

Until the night…

He put that whiskey bottle to his head

and pulled the trigger.

And finally found the way to reach his home.

Life is short but this time it was bigger

than the strength he need to face it once more.

We found him with his face down in the pillow

with a note that said, “Left for home”.

Now he won’t need to lie

to tell us happy stories.

Cause he must be happy,

he is at home.

He’ll be missed by us

but we all are wishing

that finally he must have found

. . . the Home for his heart.

© Vikas Singh and Surreal Aberrant