Home is not this place
where room is deaf of internal voices
and eyes lace down like a
drowning water in cross river.
Home is not a placed
ecorated for burnt books
of unread memories, home
is not a reprieve of our lost Amity.
Home is not a combination
of dread soldier’s, it is not meant
for futile voices like breathing veneer
without a living soul.
Home is not a capital city of plateau
where gun raped the aged men’s,
Home is not where bullet spell unity
with innocent blood cycled on the street.
Home is not where we stay,
Home is not where animal sleep in peace
and we human sleep with our peace
hanged like a volleyball in the net of pieces.
Where is home?