I don't think I can create words when I'm at home,
because at home,
happiness is like a constant ringing tune to my phone calls.

I don't think I can cry everyday when I'm at home,
because at home,
every nook hidden and cranny exposed, bears family who have fingers ready to wipe away the tears.

I don't think I can hate at home,
because at home,
the word 'hate' is shunned and shouting out "you hurt me" is very much welcomed despite the amount of times.

I don't think I can just exist at home,
because at home,
I live even without knowing and have loved ones that though exist no more, still live in our hearts.

I don't think I can envy at home,
because at home,
I ask and if it is possible, I'm given. There is also the presence of comfort where expressing wants is embraced heartily.

I don't think I can suffer so much inside me at home,
because at home,
I have a family who made it their number one duty to torment and tease me back to immense joy.

There are many things I cannot do at home,
There are many things I can do at home,
Because home is not just a place,
It is your happy hour, your comfort giver, your lovely shelter.

And at times, your home is just a figment of your imagination,
While other times, it's just a part of your heart that you permit seldomly to come out and live.

Nothing is wrong with that.

© Ifeamareme Uchechi Favour

#writcopoem #home