Home is where the heart is.
But my heart is chasing after people I cannot have
Who live in broken homes they cannot save.
My parents' home is not necessarily mine.
All we do as a family is dine.
Picture perfect on the outside,
Crippling despair on the inside.
Father drinks
Mother blinks
And a fight ensues.
Home sweet home.
—•—•—•—
Just a note that this is NOT about my family or anyone else's. It is a story which I feel has unfortunately become the reality for too many people.
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Mosaic
Poetry'For what is love if not a beautiful mosaic of happiness and pain?' A collection of original short poems on topics that I feel most people relate to or know about but don't often speak about. Feedback is welcome and appreciated ❤️ Highest Rank: #8 ...
