My Book of Poems

Home

They say home is where the heart is, but I think mine is missing

I wonder if I've ever had a heart because I don't remember it vanishing

Now I'm stuck in a house that can't ever be considered a home, just barely surviving

Obsessing over getting out, yet not having a single reliable person or resource leaving me feel like I'm falling

Staring at emergency hotlines through the night but never having the nerve to do anything

In a world full with people suffering, I can't help but feel like I'm not worth saving

Now I live in constant fear of being found out and kicked out for being gay, but I'm sick in tired of suppressing

Home is where the heart is and yet mine is missing

Or at least that's what I find myself saying

The fact that I don't love myself and I have been told flat out that my family's love is purely conditional is overbearing

If I can't love myself and my family refuses, than who will ever be willing

Having these thoughts swirl around in my head makes me like I'm drowning

Stop. Now I have to put on my smile and walk around so my family can see I'm not breaking

A laugh, a joke and a complement, now I've shown I'm still appealing

Now I make my leave knowing that they don't believe me but will still keep me around because I'm good at faking

And for as long as I can fake it, no one looking in will know our family is breaking

That I am suffocating

Dying