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Homeless

A Poem

By Alyssia ReneePublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Is it a sin if I cut within a body thats already vacant with no-one in?

My skin, is an open wound I find myself stagnant, entrapped within.

I am the tumour my body rejected, but let it climb back in.

I am the disease that eradicated my mental, and let my physical live in sin.

If I burned and rose from the malefic ashes, what form would I rise back in?

And if I drowned, lungs filled with the purest of waters, would my soul be renewed?

Would my mind and spirit return to the body of the girl I once loved and knew?

When in the arms of my sisterhood, I sometimes wonder if they sense imbalance.

A bond synchronised in the harmonious flow of our blood, we were one.

But as the waves became turbulent, the blood began to seep from places you could not relate.

Do they see that the light has gone out in my once jubilant eyes?

Do they fear the same, but not know how to deter me from a somber but destined fate?

Alone I must stand as my last pearl of energy exits through the tears I shed at my surrender on sunrise.

You see, I was evicted the day my mind became conflicted, and I can’t go back.

But here I stay, drifting behind the many faces that comfort and satisfy a few.

Contorted as a remedy for the older memories,

So that you don’t lose the home that you once found in me too.

But some how, in this spiritual symbiosis, I am beginning to find the pieces of myself that I left in all of you.

So that the day I became homeless, you could guide me back, not to the old, but to the new.

sad poetry
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