HOME.

He toils in 24 hour segments

Behind masks of received

Orders and Direction.

Segments wear on his

Body like an Anchor,

tearing at his dignity,

Piece by piece.

He then arrives at

Familiar destinations.

Finds in himself in spaces

Of Silence.

Volumes of whispers pace

Across his mind.

No femininity to comfort Him.

No place to call.

Home.

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