I’m a castaway enjoying the rough winter seas
on the carrack of a late age ship.
Flotsam, flotsam, weighing back to a place
full of roiling stomachs and stubborn jaws.

Of waiting to fight and curling up under
a tale of adventure to escape the hurling words,
walking out to hide under stark snowy logs
fallen over, trespassing in frustration of
collected angers.

Pockmarked roads and rushed breath,
screaming in my head, lips ******* shut
wishing for the Shire to land
on my doorstep.

Stalking away, leaving behind,
My, maybe one time I’ll get there,
to rolling hills and bespoken not
against my nature.

“im human too,”
and my mother looks confused.