divulgance—
he calls for my name,
but i do not turn.
ignorance, and i hear it
never again.
my friends play with knives,
but come to my need
when i am hurt.
i remember running away.
these men with evil grins
chased after me,
the ones who died to protect me, i have
soon forgotten.
now that i am home sweet home,
no one seems to
remember
me.
i run again.
YOU ARE READING
nostalgia ┊❁ཻུ۪۪⸙
Poetryfor you who has found this, for you who has vainly read my dreaded feelings and silent sobs.
