I step back through the door, this rented shell,
Where memories linger, and shadows swell.
I was sixteen, just a kid, barely grown,
But in this place, my heart had turned to stone.

The landlady—her words like venom, sharp and cold,
She twisted lies, her greed untold.
She threatened my mom, made her feel small,
I’d lie awake, fists clenched, ready to brawl.

Stress hung in the air like a heavy cloud,
My mom, worn down, never speaking too loud.
We tiptoed through days, through the lies and the fight,
And I, too young, lost hope in the light.

Grandma passed while I called this place home,
I couldn’t cry—felt so alone.
Sorrow wrapped tight around my chest,
I thought of revenge, of ways to arrest
The pain, the anger, that twisted inside—
But God whispered, “Let Me be your guide.”

I wanted to lash out, to even the score,
To make her feel the weight of the hurt I bore.
But something held me, a force unseen,
A strength I didn’t know was in me.

God held me together when I wanted to break,
When hate filled the gaps that grief would make.
He brought me through, taught me to see,
That the real power wasn’t in hurting, but in being free.

Now I stand here, the walls still gray,
But the weight of the past has faded away.
The landlady’s long gone, her poison now lost,
And I’ve learned that peace comes at a cost.

I left that house with scars, it’s true,
But I also left with something new—
A faith that pulled me from the dark,
A light that still burns like a spark.

So here I stand, a bit older, a bit wise,
The pain in my heart turned into skies—
Wide and open, with room to soar,
Because God carried me through that door.


#HomecomingPeotry