Home?

By Yasaswee Yashmin

I have a home, but it's so chilly now…

No flannel can save my skin from turning blue.

The walls have picture frames of a happy me.

But the wall is painted as black as his shoe

That tramples me, to suffocate

As I crave to die, die a death painless, but true.

No escape, since the storms outside are harsher.

I have tried to fix the leaking ceiling

A thousand times over.

But it breaks off to become a bigger void,

Letting my worst fears pour in to smother

Me on my knees, while I beg God to change the prophecy

With shattered dreams and a burning candle of hope,

I wait for the water to drown me,

With my eyes closed for I cannot fathom that

The happy pictures weren’t forever for me to see.

By Yasaswee Yashmin