I am evidently both morbid and inspired today. Instead of working on the vast piles of school work and household chores that desperately need to be done, I wrote this. The words just wouldn’t leave me be. Now I feel just as strong an urge to post it here. It’s fairly long and not a terribly kind poem. I’ve called it Homeless.


This is not how I pictured things would be

Not for you and not for me

Who knew it would be so hard to find a friend?

Someone who is just willing to bend

Who knew all the blood we spilled

And all the dreams we killed

Would haunt us now?

As we wait for the sound

The call that will bring us home again

For without a home how can we mend?

But there is no call, nothing to bring us back

And shattered mirrors only show us what we lack

So home remains a distant, uncertain dream

A thing of blurred edges and fraying seams

In mourning we sing

Never knowing what tomorrow will bring


They brought us here

To this place where the world sheds its tears

They left us here to

Too many and yet too few

There is too much blood

Too much pain and rage to stem the flood

This is our home or so we are told

But all we can see is rust and mold

A world of decay and despair

But so few see, so few care

Blinded by light and things of green

They have no understanding of how things could have been

There is something missing

Some vital thing we are risking

For the momentary pleasures such things give

Too afraid of losing what we have to live


This is not how I imagined things would be

I didn’t know they had lost the key

Who knew they had forgotten

Lost in sewage, dark and rotten

Stubbornly ignorant and willfully blind

Poor bloody fools have no idea what they’ll find

At the end of this path they have chosen

One and all will end up broken

They’ve forgotten what matters and what’s true

Until they remember there can be no home for me or you


I’m curious to see how you, all my wonderful followers, will perceive this poem. I, of course, had a specific story line in mind when I wrote it, but I think this is one of those that can be interpreted many ways. Time to get back to work, hopefully now I’ll be able to focus.


About jessicanix

I am a college student that loves everything about the written word. Stories and poetry are my mediums of choice and, with a little luck, I can show you why. Come visit me at Shadowed in Moonlight.

Posted on April 13, 2013, in Natural Laws, Wolfsong and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Beautiful! We, as a society, leave the homeless to make their own way. Then we wonder why they are homeless and not employed and living somewhere.

    • I tend to think that we, as a society, more or less leave everyone to find their own paths. If your family isn’t what it should be or you don’t have one, you’re often alone to try and find something that works.

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