Home is but a Question

Home is said to be the answer,
To every problem that you possess.
The safety and the guidance found,
Leaves full stomachs, beating chest.

But if the guidance lacked some flare,
And the safety wasnt clear.
Then wouldnt all the walls and floor,
Be held together with your fear?

I want to go Home,
Where even though there wasnt any peace,
I found my heart embedded comfort,
And I wasnt on my knees...

Begging for the mercy of the court
And jester's lies,
And then I have to hear the ignorance,
In the form of peasant cries.

Deceiving is the foreign land,
Though I've found some solace there.
I worry I've been painting it,
With a blatant picture already there.

Need I go home to find,
All the answers that I've lost?
Or is the guidance of a jester,
Be more than just the cost?

Home, a fantasy.
Home, true solace there?
Or is home but still a question...
At least I know MY picture's there.