It's 1:00 am,
and my kid cries.
As I lay my head down for the first time,
always seems to happen that way.
Although I'm so tired,
and don't understand why
my eyes are wide open as I sleep the whole day.
He's coming home soon.
I've been alone all this time,
as I've watched his footsteps linger in the hall.
In just a few days
this house will be full
again,
of what I'm not so sure.
Thats always been the trend.
I've looked at pictures on the wall
they always smile back.
Too scared to know what reality will bring,
when I open the front door.
He's coming home soon,
after all this time.
Gotten used to the idea of what it is to be lonely,
questioning my insecurity,
as my insecurity makes me question,
all the tired nights I spent
alone with those pictures
that always smile back.

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