My Home is Foreign

My home is foreign
Now
I don't belong
So I write this song
So I swear I wont
Expose my soul
My soul
I speak of
So often
Because
My soul
Is the only thing
I can hold
I can release
I can have
I can escape
Because one day
A young son
Came
And educated us
On words
Poetry
Spoken to song
The song of vocal cords
Tightening, loosening
So I sing
Now
In my head
I'm my bed
In my room
In my foreign home
It's gone
My stone
My rock
My solid
Gone
I won't claim
The academia bunks
With the packages trunks
Now way
No how
Not ever
Not now
It's not mine
It's not me
So I'm lost
A tear drop
In the sea
But my head sings
Words
And my hand flows rhyme
Time
After
Time
My hand flows
A rhyme that's
Bitter sweet
Cotton candy
Fallen in the dirt
Carmel corn
With lemon zest
And right now
There's not time
For the rest
But later
Soon
Never
Again
When I write
When I take up
Pencil or pen
To fight
To guard
The only way I know how
To protect myself
Before I spill out
This poem
Will never be complete
Until my life admits defeat
And some scribe
Can write the lines
And pick up where
I left the rhyme