My Place

One day my friend visited me

I did my best to make everything comfy

Once he left, I asked him what he thought

He told me it reeked,not of vomit or mold but an image that had rot

He explained further how my family tries so hard

To be good and genuine, but it felt too far

He had seen too much and been through more

In his own house,his mother is violent and torn

It surprised me, yet I agreed

That everything is exhausting in my place,and I want to leave

This helped me further notice the pungent shade

That held it together as my anxiety refused to fade

I am growing now and finding a path

Away from that place full of unnecessary wrath