Tough Stuff

This Is Not Home.

This is not home.
No, it’s not.
Just a place I’m validated to stay in.
A place I can have the right to ask for
Things I wouldn’t be
ashamed for.

This is not home.
No, not at all.
It’s a place where I can fake it all
Day long
Pretend everything is fine
Act like I’m happy
And everyone is alright.

image

This is not home,
No, not close.
It’s just a place where this emptiness
That won’t leave comes to roost.
Where I lose myself more with every sigh.
Where I can give hollow stares and curl up in a corner.

This is not home
No, it’s not.
It’s a place I have to learn to live
With the ones I connect to with the red
Liquid so I can fit in the real world.
So I can learn to return every jab with a parry and never stay down.

image

This is not home.
Not, not a bit.
It’s where I learn to be cold, quiet
And angry at the things I cannot change.
Where I learn to see and keeps my lips sealed.

This is not home.
It is not.

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26 thoughts on “This Is Not Home.”

  1. Things we hardly see. I got completely lost in that little piece, Dory, It was fantastic. Now some saw a good poetry in this your handiwork, and here a lady already saw another Linda in it… But all I can see and feel is a lil’ girl with great potentials who enjoys what she does… It reflects. I think you’re very very good.

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