too many strangers have called this body of mine home
what they don't realize is that under the pretty painted
walls and the beautiful chandeliers, the entire foundation
is crumbling to pieces and this home was not built out of
love and to preserve life, it is full of lies and confusion and
hurt. they see the dried up paint that ran down the sides of
the shutters when it rained and they think that just a new
coat of white will cover it up, they don't know that the runs
are the cuts to form over old scars, they confuse paint with
blood. i beg of you, please get an  inspector to look at me
before you buy into this tragedy, not that you would last
long, the ghosts that wander these halls will scare you out
before you can unpack the first box.

"you can not make homes out of human beings.
someone should have already told you that by now."

i can't be your home when i don't even feel at home
in my own skin.