The Home for My Heart

Who knew life could move so fast?
As if you're running a race.
I ask God why I am here on Earth.
My life is like an empty fantasy,
As I lay down cold in mud and blood. 

My heart stores pain like a safe,
As lies there, hidden and bleeding;
It doesn't have a home to live in
Like a thing.... stabbed in the back,
My body is cleaned but my heart soiled red.

It's easier to be strong in my head,
As brave as a lion, yet intrinsically I'm weak.
The scars and wounds of my heart can't be healed
And I don't have a home for my heart,
The world isn't my dwelling place anymore.

Toiling all day, week and year,
From the cradle to the grave.
The weekdays where I learn to swim;
The weekends whenever I drink,
I go to sleep, the second I blink.

Every minute felt like years 
As I stood in line; 
While tears flow from my eyes.
May God never allow 
That I die before I return.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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