Sunday Poem By Emmanuel Mettles

The Solo Traveller

To Home

I am on my way home,
A home where never I am at home!
The twilit sky is too walking with me.
Its slippery grin leads me to my home,
A home where I am not at home!
Its walls are painted in vibrant hues,
Reminding me the treacherous bright faces.
Ceilings are etched with star like things!
To reflect each fake smile of my homeless home.
Tasselled curtains of wickedness hides the pores of melancholy.
I am on my way home,
A home where I am not at home!
Each nook and landings are at ambush,
Seeking a chance attack to rip open my throat.
There is an unseen foe hides behind every pillar.
Noticing my every move to report!
I am on my way home, a home where I am not at home!
Its floors are panelled with the smoothness of betrayal.
The awning of ugly lust and greed decore the sleep.
I am on my way home,
A home where I am not at home!.
Its portico is furnished with
Opportunism.
And each coridor leads me to vegrancy.
Yet I am destined to reach there,
To be welcomed by nothingness!
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