One is not always safe,
In the place at which they reside.
Sometimes people can chafe,
Against those that should provide.
They rub raw,
Leaving puss filled blisters.
The infection grows far,
The illness festers.
This is no home.
Not all shall belong,
And not all are welcome.
Some fits are just wrong,
Depending on the person that you will become.
Some shoes will not fit,
No matter how hard one tries.
Some fires cannot be unlit,
Not until it dies.
Others will not burn,
Despite the effort put in.
One can surely yearn,
But that does not assure one's win.
Freaks can never belong.
Some dogs cannot lie,
For they cannot find sleep.
Some do not ever cry,
For none will care if they weep.
Home is where the heart is,
And mine is not here.
This is a place that reeks of dog piss,
And of bloody fear.
Home is a place meant for peace,
Here there is none.
This is a place of boiling bacon grease,
A place devoid of fun.
This place is a cell.
I count down the days,
Waiting for my chance to leave.
Biding time through power plays,
Keeping my ace up my sleeve.
Hard work pays well,
As does cunning.
I will escape from my personal hell,
I have had my fair share of running.