Homesick poetry stories

wethedreamers And we're a million miles away.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
I miss myself.


I'm in the throes of every woe I once struggled to overcome.

My patience grows short as my weary heart beats like a hollow drum.

Do you feel this way like there's a missing piece, although you appear whole?

Do you try to gather all the warmth you can, but can't, and still feel cold?

I just feel homesick; sort of misplaced. Crooked and out of focus.

I haven't been myself for years, and nobody has noticed.

The chasm of distance between myself and the calm I currently chase

Seems too far of a gap to close on its own, and yet, I pick up the pace.

I scurry and scrounge and fumble and fall: fall asleep, fall behind, fall in love.

But the remnants of my distraction are debilitating to see. So much but still not enough.

And I'm homesick for a place I've never been, and this emptiness is more than I've felt.

I'm homesick for a place that maybe doesn't exist. I'm homesick for myself.

The weight of my absence is too heavy to lift, while my being present leaves me scared.

Homesick and alone with no place to go... tell me, is there anywhere?

Anywhere at all? Where are you? Are you sick of being homesick too?

Do you dream of domestic bliss like I do?

Do you miss yourself?

Me too... me too. Desperately. I, sadly, do.

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