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Home
August 4, 2022
Home is where the heart is, or that's what what they tell me.
I never know if my home is glory or if its hell.
When coming back, my emotions shifts so much I never truly feel,
home.
It’s unlike me to have many wants, but
I just don’t want to feel like I'm burning away,
slowly,
forming ashes of despair.
Burning makes me weak.
When I go home the kids fight in the streets.
The dried blood on the side walk starts to smell like fresh meat.
The next morning reminds me why,
I don’t want to be home.
Is home where the heart is,
or is it a place my mind?
Am I crazy for thinking home is a place of glory?
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The poem is written about a person who feels like they've been misguided about what home is. They feel like home should be a gleeful place full of joy but they live in the opposite situation. In this neighborhood there is crime, sadness, and grief. This poem takes place when someone is travelling back home and they're thinking about how they don't live in the place that most people call home, so they question if "home" is actually just an idea.