Going back to visit
The place which
For twenty two months
I refused to call Home

I never felt at home there
But at the same time
I couldn't get
That feeling
Anywhere else.

I had been most at home when at my house,
But on the phone with someone that is in my not-Home,
When I could allow myself to feel home,
Because I wasn't technically There.

Home is the place with feathers,
Where people dress oddly
And act inhumanely
To eachother

Home is a terrible place,
But for two years,
It was my home.

21/02/08