you walk down the stairs.
and it's so loud it goes thud thud thud and it rings in your mother's ears and she gets all worked up because she hates it hates it and she hates you?
you try to brush it off try to fend for yourself but to no avail she hates how loud you get she hates it hates it and she hates who?

you forget to do it right again.
and you fuck up and she hates it and you hate it and everything becomes filled with hatred and you hate it but what is there to do?
every single day the birds sing the doorbell would ring ring ring and you end up mes-sing. words, how little they mean when you're a little too late.

you tell yourself "i need to let it die down i need to let it  cool off" but then you're late and she hates it she's gonna hate hate hate and end up hating it even more so where is the love? where is the feeling you can get only from home only from the place you can call your own?

you walk out the door. you're no longer waiting by it like a kid you no longer have to be chained to it indebted by it by the roof over your head and the rules under your bed the monsters biting at your leg you are free.

would you look back again? to a place where you felt nothing but pain and misery and pretense and most of all, hate so would you walk along and move forward now? to a place where you can breathe now a place where you can love and love and feel loved and be loved.

a place where you can call your own, a place that is now your home.