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"Home is where the heart is"
My home was built no older than I was,
It was beautiful and calm.
When restless days roll by,
It was the one who sheltered and offered me kindness.
It was nice. She was nice.
As years pass on,
It grew weary but strong;
stable but leak-y.
It gave me all that I needed.
Love. Understanding. Compassion.
Everything.
I don't know what I'd do without my home.
It was nice.
It was warm.
But, I couldn't go home for long periods of time.
Whenever I was home,
I would rather stay out and hide.
I was complacent.
I knew my home since before diapers.
I never expected to be homeless.
I don't know what to do without my home.
I was lost.
I was stuck.
I was dying.
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