narrow roads with old trees
would lead to my old home
a place in the country side
filled with hopes and dreams

my wild heart often wandered
beneath the calm summer sky
and the icy brook used to bring
peace to my burning soul

now there's a tattoo on my shoulder
resembling a home amid pine trees
the place i had to leave behind
on the day i turned fourteen

i packed my innocence in the box of cruelty
and left my childhood to die on the blue swing
i locked the windows of my new house
so the sunlight does not find me

instead of flowers, my hands now
pluck the burden of a lifeless life
and now I chase the thoughts of death
instead of butterflies

an old mustard sweater
sometimes smells like the countryside
it was something I would wear
apart from a lively smile

the taste of blossoms and snow
is still fresh on my parched lips
something that keeps me away
from tasting my crimson death

©aleesa || January 22' 22

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@writersnetwork @miraquill #nostalgia #wod #pod

@writersnetwork thanks for the repost ❤️