they welcomed me with words such as "home sweet home".
they said it was a place I would feel safe and warm,
a place like no other,
a place I can be myself,
a place called home,
a place I can finally be with a loving family of my own.
yet,
behind their masks laid a bunch of wicked lies.
and like a blind mouse,
I followed their wicked paths,
I was pretty young then,
living in a wicked lions den,
in fear and pain,
crying everyday,
my hair started turning grey,
it was the reflection of the emptiness,
that planted itself like a seed inside of me,
my tiny little heart,
became wicked like my foster family,
I grew up without the willingness to love,
to breath freely,
I grew old,
because of my "family"
because they made me believe in the non-existing
home sweet home.