My mother stands with an axe
In front of my sister's door
As if she can chop
                            down her defiance
like a tree

It's late
Home is somewhere before memories
and after a tomorrow that'll never come
And now I'm climbing over a fence
That's gutting me like a fish
With dogs in the distance waiting their turn
                        
                        Flashlights Swirling
like carousels
But there is no childhood
These are just train tracks
And home is something I'll never know