Decaying home

By: Justice. l. Mabson

Very where I turn, I see.

My home in its glory.

I see the community.

That raises Me.

Created Me.

Shape Me.

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To see the world, In its beauty.

Then Slowly everything.

I not what it was.

The family I was no trap.

Kick out and nothing the same.

Counterfeited to be safe for those.

Not welcome and or invite.

Recolonized.

Will we let this happen again?