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No matter the mess, I prefer home... |
| Sometimes I yearn for an empty sink and no dishes but my own to fill it. Sometimes I get frustrated wishing the children's clutter into the trash bin instead of covering the carpet in the rooms we share. But sometimes when I hear someone else's chaos... a missing job a missing home a missing child... I yearn for missing socks and missing homework. For this sweet disorder is mine, marking this place forever. And it sure feels good to be home. |