I want to go home

Lonesome,
An oak stood square
On a hill, faces up to the wind,
Dares it to break but a single bough,
Because no one would see it break.

Withered as bark,
I sit alone in the tub,
Awash with memories,
Bubbling with tears,
My knees to my mouth,
My roots ripped from the earth.

I have yet to bloom,
In this cold, desolate world that is
My mind, stretching on for miles into the years,
Frozen in pain and despair,
No home comforts to warm my heart.

My heart, the only thing left,
It's loyal beat still steady and true,
The blood is the same here as it was back there.

I stand on this hill,
Beneath this oak,
And remember home, here
On the otherside of the world I stand,
Wishing with all my loyal heart,
That the earth would swallow me up,
And spit me out the other side,
Because I want to go home.