Home (Where I live)

February 9, 2017
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All these times I think too much, totally tiresome, I thoughtfully think
About life and this whole world
In my small home close to the school
I used to go where small innocent times
Came through
And followed me all the way to grade 8
Being in the place I call home,
Now brings me the good feeling
Of comfort and safety,
Along with my dad, a driver’s ed teacher
Who comforts me
In my frustration,
I come home from the loud school
I set foot into almost each day
And gather at the counter
For discussion.
Bills taxes,
The question, “How was school “
Which is as overrated as
An old fashioned movie
That has been watched
At least a hundred times,
Is brought up
I try to act normal,
But my monstrous anxiety swells me up
Until 10 pm where my siblings are yelling
Fooling around and in the house, bouncing out of bounds.
They are meowing cats, playfully screeching, before I get tired
During the evening
When the clouds cry
And the wind is as cold as ice cream
With the anxiety that made me freak that day,
I fall asleep, and my brain is hay.

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