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I do not think

There is such 

a thing as

A place,

A person,

A scent,

A sound

A touch,

A taste,

that I could link 

To what the faceless 

masses call home.


I do not think,

There is a version of me that exists,

Where home is something I have,

And not something I miss.


The past,

The present,

The future,

All in which 

I do not fit.

Drifting aimlessly 

from embrace to embrace,

From place to place,

From face to face,

Searching desperately 

for a space,

That has never been 

in the first place


◄ Hearts Of Hers

Mother (I Hate You) ►



Sat 19th Aug 2023 15:31

Thank you for your beautiful comment Hugh! Well said! -Oizys

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Sat 19th Aug 2023 12:23

Hiraeth mawr a hiraeth creulon,
Sydd bob dydd yn torri nghalon

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