In all the craziness of life, in all the haze that comes with sobbing people and cruelty, there comes a home.
This home is not a structure. There is no wood, no carpet, no windows.
Instead, the walls are flesh and the bathtubs ooze blood.
When you are near this home, vines erupt from the ground and tie you down, keeping you in the present.
You know that even if you lost them, you would be eternally grateful to have known them. To have walked through their halls, knocked on their door, and slept in their bed.
They feel like they belong in your arms. You want to keep them clean, safe from burglars, and broken windows. If something breaks, you would get on your hands and knees to clean it.
I found home. I pray to god I do not lose this home.