My home
the sweet words of the world
when you hear home
most think comfort
most think peace
now
dont get me wrong
when my family is home it is full of peace
but
GODDAMN
my home is not what you may think
my home is what my parents call
My Cave
its not even worthy to be called a hideaway
in reality that's all it is
a small hideaway
but sometimes things get bad
in my hideaway
my little home
things get sad in my little home
my little home has stuffed animals
books
a kalimba to play soft music
drawing paper
crayons and markers too
but there is also
cloth to suffocate my ribs as I hideaway my body
baggy clothes to tear away my insecurities
a bed that hugs me close
but as an awkward relative
it never wants to let me go
and in the dark corners of my room
there are blades
blades that scratch
blades that remind me
that I'm worth nothing to anyone
but it's ok
this only happens when I'm in my little home
my little home that's supposed to calm
and sometimes it does
I think what's upsetting is that
these evil intruders are under my parents roof
but they dont yell at them
they dont get in trouble only I do
they dont yell at my roommates
that's not fair
but it's ok usually I lock away some things once my body has endured to much pain
I lock them away so my body can breathe
and I remember during this time
my home is good
even when it's not that good
my home isn't what others may think
it may not be the sweetest little thing
but it's important
it's important to me
it reminds me that I'm stronger then these evil things
even when I'm not
P