home is a voice i haven't heard in years

a creative supplement written by shareen zubedi

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“Are you homesick?”
They ask.
I can't be homesick for a home I don't have.
Do I really have a home?
Do I have someone waiting for me?
Someone to love me?
Silence.
Greeted with silence each day.
Roaming
Roaming mindlessly.
Looking for a place
to call my own.
I hold my innocence,
Shards of broken glass
Cutting deep into my hand.
Yet, I refuse to let go,
For it is all I've known.
Who am I without tragedy?
I stare into the mirror,
seeing the vulnerable child peeking back at me.
“I'm sorry,”
I murmur.
“You weren't supposed to make it this far.”
Days blend into a cyclical blur.
Each second,
Each minute,
Each hour.
Will things ever get better?
Broken and empty.
Like a useless machine,
With missing parts and a heart.
Each day, I break down more.
Whirring and glitching, my body breaks.
The silence haunts and torments.
It mocks cruelly.
Laughing at me.

Taunting me.
The absence of shared home-cooked meals.
The absence of giggles and tender laughs.
Human connection.
So close, but so far.

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This was written as a creative supplement for (Month)’s Florilegium instalment, (Novel). Enjoyed reading this poem? You can submit your own as well — click the link HERE to register as a volunteer and earn service hours from your contributions to The Petal Press!