Gone
Cold fleece blankets of a warm, ginger scent
Holds the repulsed memories of my home.
Now I’m gone the lingering want to roam
is no longer up for a betrayed rent.
Now I don’t know what my life ever meant
underneath the layer of stagnant chrome.
And between the soft, reserved honey foam
lies a pathetic excuse for a tent.
Too many ignorant people should have known
about the black and patronizing past,
that is crushed in between my deprived fingers.
I swear that I still feel the need to retrieve a loan.
But now that I can’t stay sane at last
I can’t help but think regret will still linger.
-Ejin J.
Poetry
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