Home is not as warm as I had imagined it.
You don’t choose your home,
It’s where you spend most of your time.
Home.
My home is cold.
Dark.
Mean and vibrant.
Voices are heard.
Shoves are made.
You haven’t any friends in my home.
They are all against you.
You may find a “friend” or two,
But it all falls through in the end.
Expectations are high,
As they are low.
Your view on life gets swayed here and there.
The adults never take you seriously.
You feel helpless.