Just because a place feels like home doesn't mean you have to run from it. That's a line in a book I read the other day. I wondered, if this house isn't home to me does that mean I have to run from it? The answer was there, yes, over and over. Yes, but I would never run. Not because it would make me a coward, but because I wanted to be secure. Also because I'm a coward. I still want to be secure. But deep down I can tell, I do not belong in this place. It is difficult to tell if the walls are holding me in or pushing me out.
All I do is wonder and drip emotion. All I do is not think and hold in emotion. Every statement I read about my self is true. It is difficult to tell if the walls are pushing those out or holding them in. And I'm unsure if this is a poem or a form of diary entry. Maybe both. Although I'm unsure, because everything I read here sounds as if it is a lie. And all I've written here sounds true. And I blame the walls.
YOU ARE READING
Nosce te Ipsum
PoetryThis is a collection of poetry I have written. Free verse, Aubade, Couplets, Prose, and Laments. Probably some accidental Doggerels. Mostly I am posting this for my own enjoyment, but I hope others enjoy it as well. I will add more as I write m...
