The Road Home

I got off the mill belt,
Heels bleeding,
My back bent, waist scarred,
From the endless churning,
I stepped out and lit a candle,
To see the road that'd take me,
Finally, to the place, I finally can,
Let the pillow hold the head,
Let the lids own the eyes,
And let the angels own the heart,
As the flame grew north,
My joy went south,
The head stretched out,
The lids went farther from the eyes,
The heart now, demons galore
That which my churning, I hoped would build,
A road home, Alas! wasn't there to be,
The belt came on, and the feet got moving, before I knew
I was back in, maybe only the mill was meant for me