What is Home?

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?