Some place like home.
I never beat my heels together
as viciously or as desperately
until a twister of lies landed,
plaguing our pattern of civility.
I never had the guts; the valor,
to ROAR what clangorously echoed
of your fake impression--your face!--
always having to take the highroad.
Friends were hard to come by
--I'm sure it wasn't you--
they were always too short, too weird, too loud--
and, of course, I was grotesque too.
The empty ventricle of aftershocks,
scraped heinously with a knife of lies,
peeling away a long-lost image
while the blood of yesterdays dries.
Tracks of ruby red, dripping with sin,
I've lost my way from golden hope
circling, disoriented, preoccupied,
searching for my curtain of cope.
The scarecrow of enlightenment;
Your wits are a joke; always unfair.
Stuffing straw too deep to appear
more than you publicly dare.
Call me a witch--
as you chase around the bee.
Wicked punch from the west!
No longer submissive, but deadly
You told me I was different;
that abode was no longer mine.
A control tactic; a tether; a weight;
but kinsfolk wasn't hard to find.
No longer a monkey on my back,
I departed, following the yellow ray
with heels cracked from hoping.
I'm leaving you behind... and that's okay.
There is no place like home.
This blog reflects the author's original works and musings unless otherwise noted. No part of this website may be reproduced or distributed without permission unless directly linked to this website and credit to the author is given.