No Place Like Home
I do not live here
tell me this is not my home.
These walls hold no favor
for me; what have we become?
Is this the place of my childhood?
The walls seem so blue and cold
and sun doesn’t come through the window,
these memories are a fool’s gold.
The hallways still echo
with the sounds of their anger.
My skin tingles with the memory;
fear of oncoming danger.
These are the corner I hid in
to carve away the loneliness
from the place strangers called my home
for here, was homeless.
Copyright © Rhia Madison Thomer | Year Posted 2010
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