home…🌷🤍 #poetry #poetrytok #spokenword

People always talk about wanting to go home. Home from their college, home from their job, home from a drunk night out. And I've always been quite unvious of the feeling, the feeling of home, because it's been the one thing I'm always running from. I run from it the way you run from a smell you can't place, the kind that lives in your clothes long after you've left the room. I don't know what people mean when they say home feels warm and comforting. I've always tried to find a middle ground, but home is always cold or setting me on fire. Home reminds me of the person I don't want to be anymore. It smells like fear and burnt toast. It feels haunted, a place where demons lived, real ones. The ones that invested my brain and the ones that made me breakfast in the morning. Demons that tucked me in at night and tore me apart the next day. Home was love that came with screams in the kitchen and didn't like nothing ever happened. People say you can always go back home, but what if home has been the only place that made me want to disappear? What if going home means I have to become her again? The compliant naive devastated little girl. The little girl always on her toes, always bracing for impact, waiting for the next blow. I don't want to wait because I'm lost. I run away because I know exactly where home leads. Because home already took enough for me. And I'm tired of surviving the one place that was only supposed to save me.