Poems

Home

Home

Oh how I long to feel at home

I used to think my house was  home

I was wrong

I used to think a place was home

I was wrong

Then, I was told, home is not a place

But people

So no matter if the walls come crashing down

As long as you love the people around you

And they love you.

Home

Oh how I long to feel at home

If home really means people

They my house is not a home

In my house, the people do love me

And I do love them

But we live at war, the walls do not come crashing down

We destroy them, as well as all chances of a home.

Home

I then began to think of school as a home

I am there more often than I am at my house

The people there cherish me dearly

And they accept me with open arms

They give me joy

Am I wrong for loving my school, my friends

More than my house, whereas more than my family?

I then began to think of my own definition of home.

Home

Not a where

Yet not quite a who

For me?

Home is a place and people

Home is somewhere where you feel happy

Home is somewhere where you feel and are safe

Home is somewhere you feel comfortable

Home is someone or some people that make you happy

Home is someone that makes you feel safe

Home is somewhere you feel you

Home is also somewhere and someone

Who doesn't make you feel like the world is crashing down.

House is not my home.

School is not my home.

My family has proved to not be my home.

School felt like home but has proved to make me fall apart.

Where is my home..?

Who is my home..?

Do I even need a home..?

Do I deserve a home..?