• Rate this poem
User Review
5 (3 votes)


written by: Precibus



Feeling so out-of-place.
What my body wants and needs, this isn't me.
I'm always longing for someplace else and now I realize,
I want a place to be free.
These streets, this town, this nation are not my home.
No wonder I can't identify with what isn't my own.
I'm never satisfied, I will never be satisfied.
What I want can only be found inside my mind.
Nothing I seek is in what I buy.
No wonder that by money I was never mystified.
My home is where what I believe without seeing lies.
What I feel in my bones is the bare bones of my house.
What can I do to make it real?
What can I feel, and does what I feel arouse the walls from the floor,
or the roof from the ground?
I have been living in so many fractions, in a room of ideas, but now
I want to build my world in actions.
I need to see my Walden come alive.
Before my flesh comes undone, allow me and my home to arrive.



26, just finding my voice. One day I hope to study music and be a professional lyricist. I like to develop my personal mythology to describe life, and relate to old mythology too.

Latest posts by Precibus (see all)

Read previous post:
My Poetry Is by Devereaux Frazier at Spillwords.com
My Poetry Is

My Poetry Is written by: devereaux frazier @marylandpoet   My poetry is long-awaited sunset on a lover’s winter night My...