To go home is a struggle,
It’s like an internal scream waiting to pour out
I have to suppress myself, my creativity my thought process
Everything about me that makes me unique
Everyone talks about how they miss Home
Am I supposed to? What is Home?
That word for me is meaningless,
There’s nothing warm about it
It’s in here, my voice
It’s in my chest
It’s ready to roar as I weep frustrated tears
But no sound comes from my mouth
I am gagged, how can I say what I want
when people around don’t know?
“You should give her some leeway”
It’s been two years
“Don’t go home”
I crave that warmth, I crave those cuddles
and hugs and love and warmth that I
know I have earned
You try to mould me into the daughter you
want to love
But i don’t fit as I’m the child you have,
You are disappointed
That you have said many times
I know you,
You who has lied because people “didn’t see therapists” in your day
You who has verbally bullied me because I am “not a boy”
You who has emotionally manipulated me because I look “awful” in a suit but “beautiful” in a dress that I cannot stand?
I ask again, what is Home?