Author: haleighw8

Is this really home?

When you dread waking up in the morning.

When you cannot muster the energy,

to come out of your room.

All because you don’t want to face him.

Is it really a home?

When you try to stay away for as long as you can.

When you join clubs and do activities,

just to stay out later.

Just so you don’t have to deal with him.

Is it really home?

When everyday you can’t go without crying.

When you can’t walk into a room,

without it being filled with yelling after you enter.

Just because he is there.

Is it really a home?

When your ceiling is falling in on you,

and there’s mold in the corner.

When half of your floor is carpet,

while the other is cement.

Just because he can only spend money on himself.

Is it a home?

When you try to go to sleep as early as you can,

and shower when he isn’t around.

When you pick times to come out of your room,

and pretend to be asleep when you hear his footsteps.

Just so you don’t have to see him.

Can you call it a home?

When you have to ask for days to have food,

or just being too scared to ask for some.

When you have to cook and clean,

while he sits and drinks while watching football.

Just like he always does.

I must ask myself everyday,

every morning,

every night.

Is where I am living a home?

Or is it just a place I must be?

Am I trapped in a world,

where I have to be afraid everyday?

Is it really a home?

Is this really a home?

Or is it a prison.

When he is present,

when he is sitting where he always sits.

Just because he is there,

is this really my home.

This.

This place I stay.

This place where I must stay,

day and night.

This.

This is not a home.