Analysis of Back To My Dark Home

The home where knocks ask for the doors

A loud, cry in the corner, a dark for colors

Slightly makes my limbs to be trunk again

Like an old echo comes from a silent rain

And the walls are patched up by the tears

Like in mid-summer latches of cloud fears

On the numb floor of room there is a story

It says how my early petals were as a glory

Curtains through the windows are burning

As the sunny days after the dense raining

And the light comes from the roof as fall

As like the dusty highways from pain's call

A table where is a rusty diary of my words

But it knows my hearty spells if it is a verse

The question it makes for me when it talks

Removes my deafness and dumbness' walks

Every line in this like a sail on the pages of it

A god bounded thoughts of how to be hermit

O' the loneliness' fatal rounds across my chair

They're aliased as the barracks around my hair

Ambitiously before writing I see out of window

Far of me is the sun wants a gloom from rainbow

Inconstant mind and the derby nerves grumble

As the contraction of my breath to heart's fumble

Feel like there's not a place for me in this and that

As timely holding few moments from my lament

Still having plans to be planned of smile and cry

As the curse of sole life deals from love nearby

Here is the deepest secret that no one knows

That trims slowly my soul as a gloaming froze