Another Place to Go

Living out of another stranger's unsuspecting pockets.
Not because she wanted to,
For the guilt and uncertainty
Settled into her conscience;
like winter's bed on a mountain top.
She had to make those temporary acquaintances,
Only to betray them later...
Betray her own morals.
Because she had to.
... Home sweet home always had such a bitter after taste.

Sleeping by the nearest bus stop,
And watching those eyes go by.
No matter the temperature around her,
It was always those eyes that stung her;
Burned her with empty coldness.
Relying on weather to keep her warm
-or atleast warm enough to sleep.
But weather is wearing on her clothes
...And deep within her chest.
During tear stained confusion, she'll search.
Search for herself, for good reason.
For some comfort,
In another stranger's unsuspecting pocket...
Home sweet home, isn't home anymore.