the road is dark
there are no
street lights
and it's like
my eyes
aren't even there
and sometimes
it's like
I'm not there either.
I'm gone somewhere
that doesn't exist
and i haven't
started searching
my way back
home but
I'm already convinced
that I'm never going
to find it.
any voices i hear
are whispers
and the light is dull
my eyes
aren't here again
and i find someone
that looks like you
so i run to them
but when i realize
that it is actually you,
all i can do is scream
and run away;
hoping i get so lost
that you can never find me again.
YOU ARE READING
Hiraeth: A Collection of Poems
PoetryHiraeth: a Welsh concept of longing for home. A type of homesickness, but for a home that you can't return to, or one that perhaps never existed. Aren't we all looking for home?
