home is a heaven without a god. I know this for I have searched the breadth of kinship and found a seed of contempt in place of a throne. I can hear you think me false, even when you cherish the reverence that strengthens you from strangers, and strangely wish you were a stranger in your own home... Visit https://spillwords.com/a-strangers-privilege/ to read the full poem!
I am passion, and I carry the weight of the world on ink and make it look like a bag of feathers. I express... I write... I breathe...