Home

By Prachie Kashyap

Home

Building that I never saw built,

Watched it turn hollow and then burn empty.

The corners that screams in silence,

And colours fading into shades of traumas.

Air, was once fine to breathe,

Chokes now at every single step I take.

The feeling of home turns void vanished,

And the feeling that remains is just denizen.

So I stepped out of walls into no walls,

Finding one in all blood and flesh.

And so I found a few but yet missing some,

But I managed to find the one filling  my lungs with aliveness.

It all made me feel like a phoenix,

For me to die again while I watch built and burn.

With all the feather work of memoirs,

ILY, IMY is the walls breaking and deflation dreams of my home is versioned.

My friends, family advices to elope and move on,

The drug I kept taking for so long and ruin all along.

Cause I am a coward itself,

Losing face and name with bare hands.

This way I lose everything at once,

And so even a clear sky mock my fucked life prophecy.

The distance with distance distancing,

The only new me things I redo in usual loop.

The masquerade I made one for me,

Showcasing the old one dead or maybe made likely to.

Ditching lights so I sit in the home of colours of dark I portray,

And just maybe I will have my own home to live rather to find ways to die.

By Prachie Kashyap