Three torn worlds,

patched together,

stretched and stitched,

rudely.

Gaping holes give

a toothy smile.

All our burns

stacked together

burning a hole

in a carcass.

Three broken worlds

molded, alloyed

in protest.

One roof houses

three galaxies,

a few light years apart.

The floor sighs anew;

Another

Crack,

Clash,

Bang.

Another

War

In what you call

'Home'.