Changing “Home”, Transforming Identity

In a humble car

And arms ready to embrace

My eyes are mesmerized

At a marble statue.

Elevated, separated

From virtue and modesty

The cascading windows and flourished wealth

Laugh at me with pity.

It masks familiarity, equality, history.

As I enter, the countenance of a queen

Greets me with a hint of oblivion, lacking of care.

The blood that hugs her lips

The dirt that stains her eyes

I cannot bear.

From her pores drip coins,

The click of her heels fade the comforting memories

You have forgotten.

Clearly,

They have rotted.

As I break free of foreign feelings

I see the marbled back of the Goddess,

Chipped, stained, and worn.

Her eyes draw me in as if I would have missed her,

“They’re a rotten crowd,” I hear her whisper.

And with an elongated finger,

She points where I shall no longer linger.

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