It’s not my home anymore,
Just a place I live.
Childhood is a long rope,
And I’ve hit the end.

It’s not good to come home
Anymore,
It feels better to run away.

According to banking Research
This county’s living wage is $14.28,
Which is a whole lot more than I make,
But I’m still supposed to get by,
And I do.

They sigh when I come home now.

I’m a burden,
And unwelcome.
I’ve reached the end of childhood,
And I fantasize about looping the end of that rope
Into a noose.

Im parked in our driveway,
Hoping they’re still asleep
So I can just slip in
Like a shadow on the wall.
It’s not good to come home anymore
I look for any excuse to get away.

It’s not home,
It’s just a house that I live in.