The trees lean in familiar, but the branches feel wrong
Every mailbox is a memory, every mile drags too long
Windows cracked open to rooms gone cold
I see myself in the shadows—young, bruised, too old
The porch still creaks under weight I can’t lose
There’s blood on the welcome mat, and I know whose
They say you can’t go back, but you never escape
The house just waits quiet, the past wide awake
⸻
Almost home, but nothing’s forgiven
Every scar on these walls is a truth I’ve been living
Lost ones in photographs, faces I dread
Dreams in the attic, stuffed under the bed
The air tastes like secrets, the silence is known
I left so many times, but I’m almost home
The swings are still rusted, the yard overgrown
The laughter’s long gone, but the yelling’s not gone
Fingerprints on the doorframe, stains in the floor
I count every heartbreak by cracks in the door
There’s a name in the dust no one ever said right
I sleep with the light on, I run from the night
Old wounds in the wallpaper, grief in the paint
I try to remember, but remembering ain’t
Almost home, but the pain never fades
The halls echo back every choice that I made
Lost dreams in the closet, bruises that show
I carry the darkness wherever I go
The air tastes like secrets, the silence is known
I left so many times, but I’m almost home
Sometimes I stand in the kitchen and hear who I was
The child who prayed quiet, the boy they forgot
I want to forgive, but the years never heal
The bruises grow deeper, the ache becomes real
Almost home, just a turn from the start
The map’s full of heartache, the world’s torn apart
I walk through the ashes, the broken and blown
I came back for answers, but I only found bones
The air tastes like secrets, the silence is known
I left so many times—
And I’m almost home