Coming Home [seven Wounds Of The Goodwill Hunting] Poem by donald kuutsi

I m coming home,
I m almost there,
I coming home,
A place where my heart belongs,
I lost my soul in the woods,
In search of goodwill hunting,
Seven SEASONS of goodwill hunting,
In the woods l lost peace,
My heart is now in pieces,
I lost my soul in the woods,
I m almost there,
But l m exhausted,
I have succumbed to the harsh coldness in the woods,
I don't have much energy
Stretch your hands,
Please don't let me fall,
Leave the doors wide open,
I don't have the energy to open them,
The scars and wounds of goodwill hunting are so deep,
Stretch your hands, the wounds are drenching my energy,
Don't let me fall,
My soul is paralyzed,
Struggling to breathe once again,
Along my way,
The scars are making me breathless
I have a fury in my soul,
I have a story to tell you,
I m coming home,
My soul has succumbed to the harsh weather
My soul is exhausted,
l m coming home
Where my heart belongs,
Where my soul will be ignited with warmth to heal the wounds from the woods,
That's why l coming home….