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Home
the sound of the mallets
gently hitting strings
the sight of a feline
tightly curled up
the taste of kitchen joy
any time of day
the feeling of blanket
cozy warm and soft
the smell of a garden
happy and healthy
all this and more
I miss when I'm gone
but when I come back
all is not well
shouting and yelling
glaring and staring
no longer hungry
cold and numb feeling
so sterile and dead
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Comments
WolfRosell Says:
it's convicting and dark yet- airessies. i like it. ^^
AuroranWolf Says:
:( I'm sorry your having trouble with parents... I wish I could help.
But I like this poem. It has its own unique twist.
achitka Says:
I remember similar episodes back in the day. People used to wonder why I never seemed to go home. Is good that you can still see the beauty of other things, it helps keep you head above the*crap.
I like it - achitka
Rieal Dragonsbane Says:
Ahh- I thought this was going to be one of your 'cute' poems. But is suprised me, which is really good. Well done.