I’m lost in the echoes of closed lips
The words right on the cusp
But are never allowed to breath
For it would be too painful
In a forest of lies
I search for my home
The place of safety and comfort
That has been lost long ago,
Or may have been imagined
The tall walls of enclosure
And surrounding views of grey
Now ring in my mind as suffocating-
There is no joy in serving a sentence
When no crime has been committed
Here I sit on a Tuesday afternoon
Alone in an empty shell
Searching for my roots where this began
But I find nothing of interest
And say my farewell
So I can keep searching for a place to call home
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
I’m lost in the echoes of closed lips
The words right on the cusp
But are never allowed to breath
For it would be too painful
In a forest of lies
I search for my home
The place of safety and comfort
That has been lost long ago,
Or may have been imagined
The tall walls of enclosure
And surrounding views of grey
Now ring in my mind as suffocating-
There is no joy in serving a sentence
When no crime has been committed
Here I sit on a Tuesday afternoon
Alone in an empty shell
Searching for my roots where this began
But I find nothing of interest
And say my farewell
So I can keep searching for a place to call home
