Home
Home wasn’t all the apartment I’ve had a bed in
Or the house where I finally had my own room
It was in my mothers arms and
In my fathers late drunken talks
Home isn’t the blue painted room I was given
Home has three other kids talking to me every hour
And three cats by my feet
Every time I opened the fridge
Now my feet are cold when I sleep
For there’s no cat snuggling beside them
Home isn’t quiet.
It has the sound of food cooking
With songs playing too loud on the speakers
While children play
But now all I hear is the tick tock of the
clock on my desk
Now I wear both of my earbuds
For there’s no one that will call my name,
Needing me to go do something.
There’s no kids I’m hearing out for.
No cat bell prancing around
Or the sound of my dads car when it locks
Home was in a Mustang I washed every weekend
Or before heading ten minutes down the road
To see the love of my life
But now even they aren’t there anymore
Copyright © Isabel D.Catrin | Year Posted 2023
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