Home

I’m going home,
But it’s not my home.

Home is where we feel safe, warm, loved.
This is not a home.

I don’t feel safe.
When did we get the blinds covering all the windows?

Warm?
There is so much tension in this house we could feed Africa with it.

Loved?
Yea, sure.
But who holds me when I cry?

Home is where I am leaving.
The one place where I belong, feel safe, warm and loved.

I’m leaving home, I’m returning to hell.

Going back home the clouds are my refuge,
I think about how I get to feel alive.
I belong there.

Leaving, the clouds are my enemies.
I can’t stop my mind from thinking about the hate that will hold onto me when I get there.
The lies are waiting to speak to me.

We are now making our initial approach to ‘home’.
No going back now,
Can’t I just open the door and fly like Peter Pan back home?

Just a few more seconds’ until…
We’ve landed,
A rough, bouncy, landing.
Is that a sign?

It’s the new year,
Lets start it off nice,

Take me back to where I belong,
Where I feel safe, warm, and loved.
Take me back home.

Poem by Dancing Queen

Comments