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Homes have always been grey. It was a dream that continued to more than twenty harvest cycles. And the last few cycles wasn't just dream but despair. I remember I wrote a long letter to the principal to excuse me from my pre board chemistry exams so that I was there when the first brick of this house was laid. I would feel like a kickass interior designer when my father asks me suggestions about how to go about the rooms. I almost died performing a hunger strike to get a room for my own and paint it in bright yellow. My soles got swollen like a pink balloon looking out for that red oxide tiles in this small town that has a name not worthy to remember. I flew to a dungeon city for college and never got to live in that home even when it was home. When I finally got to feel home by living here, it wasn't yellow as I expected it to be. It wasn't grey like everybody else's home. It went from smoky ash grey to dark deep black. Everyone in the home surrendered to the black but I wasn't used to it. The black made me uncomfortable. It made me distant and homeless. I wanted yellows on smiley balls. Or atleast Greys. There was only one escape. To change homes. I tried to change the colours but they proved futile. So I am changing homes. Forever. A bright yellow home. . #yellow #home #homeless #newlife #storyofagirl #storiesofdreams #storyofhome #bloggersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetscommunity #poemsofinstagram #bloggingcommunity #lockdownpoems #movingoninlife #lifeisacycle