I used to wake up in my own bed, my own pets cuddled up to me. Then, three months ago, an eviction notice came. Homeless kids are real, and we're hurting.. but it will get better.   I was picked up by God's hands  and dropped in someone's bed: the top bunk of a girl who chose her sister. I miss my family and I'm homesick.. but it will get better.   Today, I ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  I miss missing meals. Its funny how even pain becomes home. I feel alone. No one understands what hurts.. but it will get better.   I look over the edge to the bottom bunk and my best friend says goodnight. I'm thankful and I'm happy. Depression makes seeing "the bright side" hard.. but it will get better.   Tomorrow, I'll wake up again and my bed still won't be my own. It'll hurt, and I'll miss my mom and brother.. but I'll smile and remember: it will get better.