Within my home,
I feel scars raised above
the rest of my flesh.
I feel my lungs
Breath the air
I’ve been missing
For so many months.

Within my home,
ricocheting around,
I hear my racing thoughts-
I hear my vocal cords
Finally being able to
say what I think
and say what I want.

Within my home,
I can ******* tongue
And what it has to offer
this sick and twisted world.
I taste the saltiness
of tears that my eyes
were made to hold.

Within my home,
I can smell the smoke
of my past up in flames.
I can smell ink on my skin
From drawing hearts
And leaving my body
A bruised pen tinge.

Within my home,
I can see the walls
I build around my heart.
I can see the day
When maybe I’ll believe
Someone like me
Can be okay.