home is where you don't fear moths are lining your bath
home is where you have a plate pretty enough to make you want to finish your meals
home is where your mother's hands tremble as she strokes your father's favourite spot on the old leather couch
home is where your father cries into your mother's old lace curtains
home is where you sit in a messy pile of your childhood memories and watch them burn

My grandma told me it was time to go home, and that's when I so badly wanted to ask to stay one more night
I felt more at home at my grandmas than I do in my regular house
So I kicked on my old vans, grabbed my back pack and went home
Compared to my regular house, we do more stuff at my grandmas than we do there
Where at home I just lay in bed listening to my music and watch movies that I've seen like 500 times
There's a picture in our kitchen that says "God Bless Our Home"
Then again I haven't come into contact with any sort of god.
The only people in my house are me, my brother, and mother
And my dad on the weekends since my parents separated at least a year ago
And my sister is going off to college soon so I don't really ever see her because she lives with her mom and has a job
I see her on holidays and birthdays and such which makes me happy
Life in my home hasn't been the same since my parents split
We used to be active I would say
Now I all I do, like I said before, is lay in bed.
I go out sometimes, for shows and other stuff
I don't really hang out with friends from school except for my bestfriend since we go to the same shows
School starts back in a few weeks and am I prepared? Yes and no
I'm excited to see my friends and I'm not excited to see people who annoy me
But let's go back to talking about home
What's your definition of home?
In the dictionary home is the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
My definition of home is that home is a place where you make memories. Home is a place where you live and die. Home is a place full of love and hate. It's a place where you can feel comfy and warm or miserable and cold.
Home is where the heart is and I guess my heart moved out a long time ago...

The click clack echoes of cheap stilettos on cracked pavement let you know she's near
There is no fear in her eyes
Lined thick and black as the night sky
For she is the goddess of these blocks
And men would sacrifice their blood and sweat wages to worship in her temple

She is a walking master piece
Crafted in the shaky hands of abandonment and abuse
It took nineteen long years to create a soul so dark you could get lost just staring into it
And she's been trying to find her way back to herself for years

She is a walking tragedy
Of Shakespearian proportions
Her love stories are not so romantic and clean
They usually take place in some stranger's back seat
After some hastily exchanged words
Some stranger's rough cheek
Pressed harshly against hers
And from the outside it could almost be called love
Two people finding themselves in the arms of another
But still being completely alone in the world

This is her existence
Moonlit rendezvous
Short skirts and fishnets with holes up the sides
She's just someone to call during the lonely nights
And as they spread her thighs
They don't realize that they're filling her and killing her at the same time
She sells her body and her pride on these streets just to survive
No one knows of the little girl that hides inside that cries inside
That begs you with her eyes to save her from herself
Save her from these streets
Kiss her on the cheek and let her ride in the front seat
She doesn't care where you are going
As long as its away from here
Where ever you and she stop will be called home
And she will finally be allowed to rest.