I went back to my childhood home.
Lying in the same bed
I learned the word
“insomnia”.
Reunited with childhood memories.
Childhood scars.
Childhood fears.
Life outside of this house is scary,
but homelessness was better
than being here.
Why do the things that hurt us
have such a strong grip?
Gravity pulls me back into
the red brick,
corner of the cul-de-sac,
dysfunctional household.
The doors are locked from the inside,
so why can’t I let myself out?
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Author:
V (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 15th, 2022 05:37
- Comment from author about the poem: Note to self: Maybe the outside world was supposed to teach you how to survive inside.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 22
- Users favorite of this poem: FallenAngel1🕊
Offline)
Comments3
I suppose as much as the house was dysfunctional, it was still the house you called home. Sometimes the further away you get in body, the nearer you stay in mind.
This was really hard to for me too read,it brought back a lot of hard memories of my childhood home(s) I left home at 15,but was always drawn back...I just paused to read it again,..WOW!! SO RELATABLE,!!!..to me😢 And so beautifully expressed. Bravo!🏆🌹💐 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Take a bow and shine💎 bright🌟😊
Very emotive words Valerie, may that survival within you take you to a better place.
Andy
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