The Mourning

I woke up in a different city today. I looked around my room in the same apartment of 8 years and it was markedly changed. The streets, the ones I've walked with confidence and well-worn familiarity, were colorless and filled with ghosts. Even the cars were slower, methodical, and unmoved. Where is my village of artists and dreamers? Where have the poets gone? Who did this to you? Who cut the blood from your veins and stripped you of your passion, your vitality and your freedom? What is this haunted vessel?

What happened to my Home?