Welcome Home

by Thomas Edward

Before me please do not stare,

Upon the grand image before.

Once appears from my front door,

Now the blasphemy I bare.

How do I know?


Is this so abrupt to be,

A folly in guesses thought,

And pieces that time never bought.

Am I just so slanted not to see.

What do I do?


Staccato notes bare no fruit.

A long empty skipped beat,

Created of, but no feat.

One voice captive colored in mute.

Can it be true?


Thoughts wander, do I digress,

Giving room to syllables.

Away words, be suitable.

Verbal elation I do express.

Welcome home.

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