…At nightfall,
While everyone slept,
I crawl to the corner of my room
And cry sore…
These walls have eyes
That have seen these scars
Grow from deep wounds to dark
Patches that are neither forgiven
Nor forgotten.
They say scars tell hidden stories of pain.
But pain is relative,
Everyone tells their story
Of hurt a different way.
For me, pain is the echoes
That won’t leave my head,
The image of little me
Closing my ears to the sounds
Of two people fighting!
Pain is the past plastered over these walls,
Each telling a different story of how
My scars were formed!
Pain is each little teardrop
My eyes had produced
To drown me of my worries,
Tears that floated me instead!
Like garlic, I chewed pain, and while I grew,
The stench remained with me!
Salvation is getting far away from home,
Away from all those pains
And heartaches
And the memories plastered on those walls.
No, home isn’t where the love is!
Home is where
At nightfall,
While everyone slept,
I crawl to the corner of my room
And cry sore.
Running my hands through those walls,
I see in flashes all the hurtful memories
I’ve been through.
They advise you to stay home,
For them, home is the comfy beds and sofas
And children playing.
The flowered vases and round tables
And Don Williams singing.
They advise you to stay home,
Truthfully thinking they are trying to help.
They don’t know what my home is like!
More from the Writer: A SUNSET AT DAWN
Written by Goodluck Agu
agugoodluck@yahoo.com