Which home would I go back to?
—the one where I may be related
by blood but has scarred me
for life with words and deeds
they can't undo?Or would I go home
to the one where
I have crossed with
nothing but a wire
—braving depths of
toxic oceans underneath?
Not only did it left me
hanging, it even cut off my
only lifeline with a single wordWould I go home to the one
who offered me a place to stay
for a night of turmoil only
to drive me out the next
because I was one of
the "temporaries"?Would I go home to the one
where I felt most alive
but was burned to the ground
by the system of the world
and the desire to gain it?To the home of flies
and rubbish that once
have been me
or to the innocent rivers
of pure dreaming
and motivation flowing
freely and without anxiety
—both are razed to the ground
by my own hands with the help
of people who promised to fix me
but ended up wrecking more—
Tell me now—to which home
would I have to go back to
just to rest—at long last
YOU ARE READING
an adjournment of scars, an endearment of stitches
Poetry❝𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢�...