The Passerby

I built this home of skin and bones

nestled in a nest within my head.

So cozy curled up here alone

wrestling with what rests of dread.

They say that eyes are windows to the soul;

to me they're windows to behold

a world beyond my home.

My inclinations are to draw the shades

To close my lids, live in my brain

Here within my home.

But outside a waving passerby

Has glimpsed within my home

And drawn me out to say hello

Or perhaps to say goodbye.

3 Kudos

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