Is home not a safe place?

If childhood is dusted with colourful sprinkles, I've never been to childhood.

Pic taken at Tutti Frutti

"Is home not a safe place?"


Nobody knows for sure.


Except the silly hen in the neighbour's backyard on that hot afternoon.

or

the ticking clock peering down the bedroom on that rainy evening.

or

the door knob that was turned against its will under the dim room light.



When there's nowhere to run,
no place to hide,
no help to seek and
no one to tell,

What else is left aside from a tattered trust?

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.
.
.
.
.

"Is home not a safe place?"


I pose this question to you, dear reader.