311 W. Norman AvenueIt’s time to home, man
I’m cold
But that home doesn’t exist
But it’s time.
Now that hold has me
It’s time to bend
Those strings which hold me.
It’s time to go home
That life which accosted me
That life you told me of
Those stories I never asked for
That beat me as if I was there
it’s time to go home
I’m cold now
Your choices flood me
Now that I’m homesick
Which I never asked for
Which I just accepted
Now that I’m homesick
sick with your life now
I didn’t turn away
Because my lessons said don’t
Because I want it to be
Something so very different
That I can’t stop this rape
A heart filled with politeness
Poisoned through a lens
Taught wrongly by conceit
Created by a love
Misinterpreted
From a pond unintended
By decisions
posted by heliotrope at 11:37 PM
1 Comments:
This strikes me. Sometimes I get a feeling of homesickness. But there is no home I can really focus on besides my youth.It all always boils down to me. I,me, I am home.
I think I'll go curl up in front of my imaginary fireplace and watch the embers.
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