It’s [bad word] back to the house where you were born -
Photographs in the hall from years before. 
The window in your brother’s room where morning sun would speak to you 
Is covered up with years of dust - it shines no light, gives no view 
Shades are drawn, eyes are turned from sky above, 
You’ve found yourself far from that place you used to love.
So you paint the walls familiar shades, but the room itself remains unchanged. 
And as you look deep within, you gain the courage to begin: 
“I used to be such a burning inception, 
When days ahead seemed as brilliant as morning’s light 
Spent my life waiting for the rising sun 
But the dawn [bad word] and left me here to find - 
While I don’t recognize who 
I’ve [bad word] 
I’ve grown much farther from the person 
I once was 
So like the glare out from evening’s glow 
I’ll close my eyes and let this go."