A homeless soul you were
When I met you
I built a roof above your head
When you walked yourself in my poetry
Beds of words on which you slept
Walls of rhythm kept you safe
From wilted truth and poison laced
Worlds of demons, yet you wept
For freedom, you begged
So I let you go and burned my poems
You walked alone, streets you roamed
Soon enough, you missed the shelter
Not much later, you came back home
But ashes to the ground
Were now my poems
And written in smoke,
"Your home is gone."
- Rati
