Home is where the HURT is

by Timothy   Sep 4, 2004


Having thrown a few clothes in a bag,
I left this place long ago, and began to roam;
The uncertainness of the road was better,
Better than what was at home.

I have experienced everything imaginable,
It is no fairytale world, life on the street;
I have been beat up, raped, pimped out, and abused by police,
But at least out there, I was still on my feet.

I don't know why I came back for his funeral,
I wished for his death for so long, it should be as merry as a circus;
But I stare at his lifeless body, and merely think:
Home is where the HURT is.

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Latest Comments

  • 16 years ago

    by lost and incomplete

    Good i like it ur dad must of been a plonker nice good i guess i realy like it !!

  • 18 years ago

    by Tammy

    Sad & wonderfully written. I loved every word of it.
    Take care & God bless.

  • 18 years ago

    by PinkLaces

    You Write So Beautifully,
    I Envy You.

    Failed

  • 19 years ago

    by *~Vanessa~*

    Wow! Ditto to Tamara. I can't seem to think what to write for this. I know I want to tell you how inspired I am. But that word doesn't seems strong enough for the effect your poems have. I guess I'll just have to fall back on my first thought. . .Wow!!!

  • 19 years ago

    by jamie25

    nice write! sad!