a stanza

18 years I had been living in one peace of heaven. Controversial and some would even say destructive - and yet a peace of heaven.

Repression

is the only way

to accept the destruction we had

that bloody day.

It scratches, torments and reaps the furious heart;

The outrageous injustice   

that tore us apart.

My dreams are the only place where

you manage to appear

and even then

I cannot spare the tear.

You are nowhere,

but everywhere

even in this poem 

my precious childhood

the only place I've ever called

HOME. 

The End

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