I'm bored.
Maybe I can pull out a poem
From the thick,
Humid air of this room.
A room that is not mine
It is shared
And I feel like I have a tiny corner
That still is over powered.
I am just an intruder.
I wonder when I will stop
Being in someone else's home
And have my own
Where I can put what I want on the walls
I can put the dishes in the cupboards
The way I want.
A home that is mine
That no one can take away from me.