HOME (POEM 97)

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As the whispers never seem to leave,

I've become accustom with hearing them scream,

The atmosphere seems to be angry too,

With my existence,

You shouldn't be here the waves scream,

As they hit my feet,

 I fell to my death,

I felt him catch me,

He looked into my eyes worried for me,

 That was when I knew I loved him too,

Let's go home he said,

 I put my face into the crook of his neck smelling his divine cologne,

All I could do was sigh,

For he was my true home.


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