Stranger in My Home
Stranger In My Home
my home is like a carousel its lost the meaning of parallel,
it's weird, it's small, it's short, it's wide and has made me give up my sleeping tide,
my home in which I sleep and breathe has left me with no humble kith,
my carousel moving round and round spinning till my eyes loses its sound.
life and it's mysteries, if the past were to accept me, nostalgia would be my golden age my home seemingly a cage would lose all entities of its rage.
the curtains, sheets, chairs and bedding they embrace my every treading,
I sit and stare at the light and the words elude my sight,
my home's lost the scent of home, I miss it like it's lost its dome,
where am I? so unfamiliar & mundane, emptiness of cluttered atmosphere,
it's all too blur, I'm a stranger in my home.
Copyright © wendy okeke