Home by Dib Qaub Lee

Home tastes like the 559 where

Maladjusted families

Originating in

No man’s town never

Gets out of there.

People like me,

Removed from our homes but never

Intentionally leaving

Die wondering where home is

Everyday.

In ways we never expect we must

Survive until tomorrow.

Hungry, starving,

Or ravished we must

Make sure to look out for

Everyone.

For us, we carry

Our homes on our backs

Remembering those before us.

My memories are

Everything.

Comments are closed, but trackbacks and pingbacks are open.