My Old Home

My old home, some would say, "aint much to write home about", but thats ok if you think about it.

As youve probably geussed, my old home is not where I live now, and most of my familly have moved on too. If you were to think about that it could be good or bad, but for me it is mostly bad.

I have been away from my birthplace for so long that a melancholic homesickness ruins the taste of everywhere I go and gives seed to an obsessional longing to return to a place that no longer exists in the form that I crave.

Others from my hometown that I meet in passing, hold similar resentments but they put blame onto an age old scapegoat, (immigrants) instead of their own greed in buying public property then moving away.

I do not place blame in the same way as others do, I dont blame immigrants whose only crime is being desparate enough to leave the home they love because circumstances make survival impossible, nor do I think it right to lay claim over what I left behind voluntarilly.

I blame the greed of the yuppie generation who misinterpreted Darwin to justify legal theft.

Remember, the species that is fittest to survive is the one that helps it's fellows.