PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Hiraith: [hɨraɪ̯θ]

Roughly translated from Welsh as;

homesickness tinged with grief or sadness over the lost or departed

Punitive impurity for the indulgently trusting.

That power trip

From the brain you ripped

Has maimed what you once found beautiful.

Your comfort zone is not found unless owned

And you have tossed a home aside.

But to be fair, you loved it once.

The novelty of new surroundings.

But the paint has now peeled,

The roof, cracked,

And these flaws that flourished 

From your heavy feet,

In your eyes,

Suit you no more.

So perch upon your lookout, hoping to see

A gullible soul that will house thee.

Carve into your skin the count

Of those loved, tossed,

And emotionally lost from

Their personal contusions due to

Your sadistic contortions. 

Through the glazed windows into your abandoned lot,

Your entitlement to love is like a burst sewage main.

It has ruined whatever morality was inbuilt;

Sogged it unrecognisable.

So when people break those foreshadowing chains

That lock you into your abode,

The pungency of your mess springs disgust to their eyes,

Disguised to them as deficiencies reprehensible.

So you miss the warmth of

A home freshly slain

But your relationship with time

means you may not return.

As long as all that have passed

Maintain their ability to remember,

Change shall not treat you so well.