We are the kids
Our parents warned us about
With scarred limbs
And dead eyes
With fragile lives
Shattered dreams
And smoke in our lungs
My parents warned be about kids like I
The ones who see, feel, and live
Life on the streets
Pain in hearts
Needles in arms
Sure, bad choices are made
But will your parents
Warn you
About me?

And after all this time I’m still imprisoned in the walls of a place I no longer consider home. Is there a safe haven for me somewhere? I believe so when I’m in your arms, but I can never stay. I want to drown in your loving words, suffocate in your love. I want those arms around me like the walls of a home, but I learnt a long time ago not to make a home out of a person, because people leave, and you’re left homeless.