POETRY

Homeless.

Changing buses in the middle of the road,
Changing planes mid air,
Endless exchanges of car seats;
all to reach home.
My soul now in a state of homelessness
fighting to fly back home.
But where is home?
Is it the land that gives me a bed to sleep?
or the land that gives me a house to stay?
Is it the land that gives me money?
or the land that my mom first called me honey?
The bed keeps changing,
new colors;
the walls keep painting.
Three different lands
all which I call home.
Oh! how sad is it really
that I have no home really!

~ Freida

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2 thoughts on “Homeless.”

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