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...