Mama tells me this is my home.
This world is not home.
'Home' is safe.
'Home' is care.
'Home' is not this world.
What the hell is wrong with this world?
This world we call 'Home'
Grips it's hands around our necks.
'Home' throws us to the flames
And laughs in amusement.
'Home' personally violates you until,
No matter how many showers you take,
You still feel its cold, dead hands
Gripping your skin.
'Home' treats women like food scraps in a dumpster
Like chewed gum stuck to the bottom of your desk
But we will not be silent.
'Home' may tear us limb by limb
But we will put ourselves back together.
And when 'Home' asks if they can help,
We'll shout, "No."
YOU ARE READING
My Voice Through Poetry
PoetryDepressed + gay = poetry 🤯 ⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING: including (but not limited to) self-harm, abuse, mental hospitals, eating disorders, and suicide.
