Am I going to find a home when I turn the corner?

Am I going to find a family when I open the door?

My flaws are still present, are part of my personality,

ingrained in my make up but not an abnormality.

What’s normal, anyways? We make this up everyday.

I’m perfect, you’re not, is that how it should be?

Should we all wear a  label and then we’d agree?

This reality called life needs some rearranging, maybe we’d see

it’s our thoughts that really need changing.

Like a mythological monster, a story from the past,

carried too far the memory becomes recast.

To one that is far worse, legends become dark and diverse,

Yet, began a story, remember, a tale of yore. Now men teach it to children

in times of war.

Where’s my home when I turn the corner?

It’s gone with all the rhetoric.

It’s gone with the vitriol.

My family is divided, a civil war in the making.

Leave, if you may, alone I will be overtaking!

Past was filled with memories of battles fought exclusively.

Now they can be done foolishly or brutally!

You decide, since it’s your game to play.

Forewarned, my friend, you’ve now become my prey.


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