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abby-nicholePoems
Within my home, I feel scars raised above the rest of my flesh. I feel my lungs Breath the air I’ve been missing For so many months. Within my home, ricocheting around, I hear my racing thoughts- I hear my vocal cords Finally being able to say what I think and say what I want. Within my home, I can taste my tongue And what it has to offer this sick and twisted world. I taste the saltiness of tears that my eyes were made to hold. Within my home, I can smell the smoke of my past up in flames. I can smell ink on my skin From drawing hearts And leaving my body A bruised pen tinge. Within my home, I can see the walls I build around my heart. I can see the day When maybe I’ll believe Someone like me Can be okay.
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May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Home is Where the Heart is
Within my home, I feel scars raised above the rest of my flesh. I feel my lungs Breath the air I’ve been missing For so many months. Within my home, ricocheting around, I hear my racing thoughts- I hear my vocal cords Finally being able to say what I think and say what I want. Within my home, I can taste my tongue And what it has to offer this sick and twisted world. I taste the saltiness of tears that my eyes were made to hold. Within my home, I can smell the smoke of my past up in flames. I can smell ink on my skin From drawing hearts And leaving my body A bruised pen tinge. Within my home, I can see the walls I build around my heart. I can see the day When maybe I’ll believe Someone like me Can be okay.
Another poem for class...I had to write about my home but I don't really have one...
#home
abby-nichole
Written by
abby-nichole
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
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