Life Without a Home

There are some things I do not understand about life’s demand and what I deserve.

I have partaken in my nation’s strife and now my life has lost all of its verve.

My lovely wife and two kids I must sadly bid farewell to that time.

Even without a formal goodbye I would still like to try to right this crime.

There's this voice, which I have no choice, but to listen to in my head.

The booze takes the weight of that awful date as I continue living as the dead.

I tire of the fire that stole my life away.

My arm now without use, just my nous worth the light of day.

And this voice said with much dread, “Wake up! Wake up from this dream.”

For it is terrifying, it is lying, and it would seem

This is no mere knife, in this once great life, but a nightmare.

There is no more sensation or any admiration, I unfortunately declare.

With only this locket, tucked in my pocket to hold my memories

The streets filled with whispers, the lack of respect gives me blisters, infecting me like a disease.

A place with anywhere to roam, it sucks not having a home, can't I just die?

A little more liquor, please work a little quicker, I just wanna say good bye.

He told me this, smiling in pure bliss, I want to thank you.

I looked up at him, feeling grim, “What did I do?”

At this he laughed, no matter how daft, you simply listened to my story.

“How does that aid, weren’t you afraid?” I made an inquiry.

Little lady let me explain, long ago I was slain, and the joy of life disappeared.

I walked these familiar roads, now filled with nameless goads, my city thought me weird.

Sure, I fought for my country, sure, they let me go hungry, too preoccupied by appearances

But then you sat here with eager eyes, I was taken by confused surprise, this girl full of incoherence is –

Hah! I was about to question if your parents had taught you the lesson on interacting with strangers.

However, that wouldn’t make me any better, acting despite any present dangers.

I must say, if it weren’t for you that day, I would have succumbed to be rotten.

As my fears fueled by derision and my insecurities clouded my vision, I wanted to forget but not be forgotten.

“That makes sense,” I hear me say, how dense, as if I could possibly understand.

He battled a war to defend sisters and brothers, how ungrateful was I when I battled my mother. “Never again!” I took a stand.

“Keep up the good work Sir, an inspiration to every amateur,” I exclaim as I realize I no longer have such a narrow point of view.

I turn to face him, his eyes look rather dim, closing his lids I smile, “Thank you.”