What is home, everyone knows
from experience or lack
or both, as I do

And still
I know what I missed
when I think about it

Not often, at last
I got my home
And still

I am the saviour, the angel
I have practised to be
from childhood

I hesitate at the old Christmas card
with me as a little angel, back then
when I got a cat as a present

Stars on my white dress
gilt-edged wings
and a halo

But unable
to definitely redeem
my family, their desires

Wounded, I crashed
bipolar between heaven and earth
between love and failure