Home Sick


Knuckles clenched white

throat like the desert

I've caught a sickness with no cure


I'll drive familar roads with the windows down

Searching for the remedy

A dose to make me feel at ease


Nostalgia isn't what I feel

It's not the memories that make me lose sleep

I'm still searching to find the answer I need


The aching in my bones

Is for a place that doesn't exist

And I don't think it ever did


And I don't think it ever will


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741