my poem titled “Homes & Houses”

life, love, poem, poetry, Uncategorized, writing


My home


My house

A house isn’t a home

But a home can be a house

Feel safe

Feel scared

Like standing on the street in the dark alone

Loud like a train station

Quiet like a library

So many books strewn around

Buried in words

Words screamed in faces

Words whispered behind backs





A coliseum of conflicting opinions

A sing song around a camp fire

Works of art on the walls

Some painted with brushes

Others with fists

Loner in a crowded place

Crowded in your own room

In a room that isn’t really yours

See yourself in the mirror

In the eyes of your family

In your reflection in the window

Looking out at out people’s houses

Other people’s homes

Do they live in homes or houses?



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