Like everyone who grew up
in abusive atmospheres do,
I too swore that once out
I’ll never go back

like the hurt bird I was,
I skipped calling the first
weeks, laughed alone
as I made promises to
start over-
to not let anything
rob me of my joy

cause back there
back then,
blinded by my own pain-
I did nothing but repeat
what I was taught..
so I too, got clever with
insults. often, found pleasure
in digging out healing

and as it often happens
in solitude, I got to
hear my own voice-
(stood amazed, at how much
it sounded like hers)
over coffee that tasted
nothing like the one
she makes
I counted everything
I could possibly sell-
to run back to her

ashamed, diploma-less
and all.

Authors note : “heimwee” is the dutch word for a longing for home.
This poem was inspired and crafted after this one :

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