My heart builds walls wherever I roam,
now wary to fall in love for the eighth time.
I hold back the tears till I get home
to write another bruised poem
with self-loathing and clever rhyme
of how I build walls wherever I roam.
I visit my widowed mom, her hospital room
of anemic fluorescence and septic slime,
holding back the tears till I get home-
sick, and drive back to my Google Chrome
for YouTube fails or Amazon Prime.
My heart build walls wherever I roam,
and I've roamed far, toting my broom
to sweep all heavy memory and its grime
as I hold back tears and find a new home
and contemplate which one will be my tomb
with heart hard and love left to whom?
My heart builds walls wherever I roam.
I hold back the tears till I get home.
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