Impressions
All things pass,
Leaving their scars
Upon our skin.
Moments of ecstasy.
Trauma.
All of it, fleeting
Yet stubborn,
Fixed in its place.
The remains are there
For all to see,
A reminder not of who I am,
But of how
I have been made.
What can I be
But a palimpsest of
My experiences?
Shaped by how
I have lived.
Living by how
I have been
Shaped.
Written in response to Mara Eastern’s Poetry 101: Rehab
NO
no job
no prospects
no money
no plans
no matter,
as long as you’re here.
This poem is a response to Mara Eastern’s Poetry 101 Rehab prompt Home.
Home
Walking around this empty place,
The one I called my home.
It somehow doesn’t feel the same,
This house I used to know.
These walls that used to keep us safe,
Right now they look so weak,
Crumbling away to nothingness,
As floorboards snap and creak.
This house I used to call my own,
That made me who I am today.
Now it serves no purpose here,
Just sits and waits as it decays.
My life written through poetry
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