Letters From My Trunk

From the ministry of happiness 

Had arrived a letter.

Wrapped in dull hues of the winter sky

With shades of white, crimson and grey.

Authoritatively stated,
Madam, it says,

You've been such a traitor to your Homeland.

You're body that you've devoured.

Trespassing territories you were warned against,

Of regret, pain and self harm.

You've made enemies of your allies,

Burned monuments of your worth.

This no longer shall be tolerated,

The consequences will be worse.

The things you've told yourself 

Had no place here to be nurtured.

This body was the land of the wild,

Where you had to plant lilies and pansies,

And the little wild whites.

This was the land of the old,

Where you had to build lanes for the new to grow.

This was the land that had to soak in

The salt from the farthest oceans.

This was the land that had to be home to the flawed,

To the fierce and the kind.

This was the body that was home to you,

Your dreams, failures, sins and achievements,

All alike.