Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2015
.                                                               .
                                                              I­'m
                                                        home again,
                                                 and I'm alone again;
                                           and hell, why do I even try.
                                          But, if home again means I'm
                                         alone       again, then,     why do
                                   I stay inside? Am I afraid to be seen or
                                      to be recognised?  It's just seems I   
                                       I am more afraid to be forgotten                                         And         I  gathered  ­       there's
                                        no           risk of being       out  of
                                       mind if I'm never out there to be left
                                      there. I guess on on the bright side; I
                                      could        say ;"at least       I'm warm
                                     inside,"       or    "thank-       fully there's
                                       no   rain   today."   Yet   that    does
                                   not remove the                    empty  space
                             ­      beside   of   me,                   or so frequently
                                                              le­ft    inside
                                                                ­  of   me.
I don't even wish it to be filled,  simply     gone. Because then I'd never to have to do random **** or get ****** up a bit to     pretend I'm having fun. It's nothing to do with "glass half-empty and glass half..."     yea that   bull. It is simply about    all these empty houses that have always been     full.
There are many hearts that remain lonesome, at no fault of their own, even among those that love them, they still live with empty hearts, inside empty homes.
Peru Edmondson
Written by
Peru Edmondson  Manchester
(Manchester)   
723
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems