Far Away And Yearning In Doubt

I am at fault,
the wages of all men.
Conceived in infamy,
death is the inheritance.

Shallow hearts and
shallow hands,
shallow graves
to be washed away.

Silence is a language
every tongue comprehends.

Beneath these eyes,
hiding in fear,
is a child of light
afraid of its source.

I’ve been away
so long, now,
far away from
where I was born.

A yearning and scorn
in a double-edged heart
paints a picture
of where I stand.

Afraid of my home.

This place is familiar
even though it is strange
and I, to it, am a stranger.

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