This house is not a home

This house is not a home.

Not if I make my room my "own."

Not if the family is here.

This house is not a home.

I think of this as something temporary.

like an Airbnb

We went to our true home today.

For the last time, probably.

There was a different car in the driveway.

No welcome mat

There is no bench or two on the porch to sit on.

These people have taken my one actual place and made it theirs instead.

I long for the bed I slept in as a child.

I long for more space.

I long for the room that was once mine.

I long for the room that was for my dog and me.

This house now is not a home.

It is a one-story piece of a home.

It is not my home.

It will not be my home.

No matter what posters or pictures we hang on the walls of my new room.

This place is not mine, and I will not accept it.

No matter what, we paint the walls.

For me, this is not home.

The home was a two-story, four-bedroom, three-bathroom and backyard paradise. We had a basement, too.

Where we hid from tornados and terrible storms.

We don't have that here in this house.

We all had space, and we made it our own,

This new place is not home.

It is small, and we are all on top of one another.

For me, it is no home.

This is a temporary place.

Nothing is comforting about this place.

It is nothing and will always be nothing to me.

"Change is good, and it was time to leave anyway," People tell me.

I laughed like it was a joke because it was.

I don't find it funny; I find it insulting.

That was the only place I ever knew.

It is no longer mine.

This house is not a home.

The yard is overgrown, and I fear my dog will contract ticks or fleas,

Even though my brother mows once a week.

This house will not be a home.

No matter what we do to make it ours.

It is not.

This house is not mine.

It will never be mine.

One day, I will find a way to get my true home back.

One way or another.

Or find myself a home.

That will be all mine.

This place is not mine.

I am not proud of this place.

It is not an apartment.

Or a trailer somewhere far away.

But I am not proud of this place.

This place is a home to someone.

But not to me.

This place is no home.

This is a house but not a home.

Nothing I do will make this my home.

A home is a place, but not this one.

My room needs to be more significant.

I have a smaller bed now.

There is only a little storage besides my tiny closet and TV stand.

My clothes dresser has drawers that barely open. So, getting clothes that are outside my closet drawers is a pain.

This house is not a home.

There needs to be more space here.

When I try to sleep at night.

I can hear my mom's and brother's TVs late at night.

Our bedrooms are almost on top of one another.

This house is not a home.

It is too small.

It is a home

but not my home.

It is unfamiliar.

It is small.

This is a place.

A place not for me.

This house is no home.

This place will be temporary

This house is not a home

and it never will be.