they say home is where the heart is
but where is mine?
Is it lost in a train
Or a dark dark mine?
because I look at the place
that should carry my heart
And remember how it echoed when I tore it apart.
Now the wind is singing through the hole in my chest
And my hands are clawing, what they do best.
Now I sit at my mirror
And stare at my eyes
gone black with delusion
gone empty with lies
I stare at my reflection
She grins, glares at me
Because what is a home
Without a heart to be.
1:27
13.11.22
YOU ARE READING
A Diary of Soul (Unedited Version)
PoetryKnow Thyself - Socrates Have you ever felt like a stranger to yourself? Like you're here, but lost? Just another performing mask in a sea of faces? Another wandering being made of dust? • Finding yourself and healing amidst dark moments of life i...
