All the places from my childhood are officially gone. The only home I have now is wherever I make it, or in my heart as I roam.

All the places [i]and[i] people from my childhood are gone too, but they were never mine to begin with, all we had was a few short moments that became memories, thats all we get, the people and places turned into thoughts like how burning paper turns to ash and scatters in the wind.