Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
their eyes, red and swollen
In the corner of this house, there is deafening silence
screamed by my father's mind
And my body shakes as if riding a bus through a bumpy road,
I'm numb enough but i still know
We have different monsters
We face each day, we don't know if we're lucky that we survived
I don't know where their minds are,
and I'm willing to hide behind
the ignorance of this war


Yes, this is the kind of home I return to
Maybe that's what established the bliss of not knowing
Maybe I'm starting to consider not coming "home". 8/19/18
cherry blossom
Written by
cherry blossom  19/Philippines
(19/Philippines)   
  754
   Melancholy of Innocence and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems