home

i want to go home
but it doesn’t exist anymore
the home i knew isn’t what it was anymore

it’s gone

vanished

as i was forced out of my memory.

how do you find belonging
when your system remembers being pushed to leave?

i might be stealing these words，
my voice was stolen from me。

how do you grow new roots
when you’re terrified of them solidifying?
when the roots that grew you were swamps in disguise?

what if your home was burned to ashes
— a thin layer of dust on top of ruins?

roots don’t solidify, their ashes fertilize.
they’re alive、growing、 always evolving

i know it’s broken memory messing with reality
i know…

the home i thought it was
it never was

it never will be。