Steady, trying to force my heart get slower.
Inside this place, full of things I own.
I want to stay here for the eternity, faking the outside world it's nothing more then a vision, a dangerous illusion.
Voices calling my name.
The outside world it's scary and filled with misery, I would never get out by choice.
Here I have all I need.
A book in front of me, I read curled up on myself, sitting on the green easy-chair.
Next to me the window, I sometimes look up for see the scary outside world.
I don't get what's happening, the view it's blurred and confused, I surely know it's cold and dark.
I observe the beautiful place I'm in, with a mesmerized look.
The color of the walls of my house are a clean light blue, the floor is made of wood.
I have a cat, in my house, far from the outside world.
It's all black, and he loves to get cuddles.
It's a him, and wants to play with me all the day.
He tries to catch my attention by rubbing on my legs his head.
It's all mine, inside this place.
Quietly staying somewhere between the peace and the mess I'll eventually get to face.
And I have to face it.
Everything smash, while a voice call my name, loudly and angry.
I've avoided the outside world as much as I could, but I couldn't any longer...
A teacher call my name, angry cause I went distracted.
"Pay attention" he said, and I wonder what will be my next moment inside my perfect home.
Cause everything hurts when I'm conscious , hearing voices as they are too loud, and lights as they are too bright.
So I want to get away from this reality.
Inside an illusion that I'll made home inside.
YOU ARE READING
Called home
Poesíawhat do you call home? a place, a person or a memory? maybe a song, a picture still inside your room... maybe them all, maybe nothing can let yourself feel calm enough to call it home. A lot of different scenarios with different experiences, what w...
