A Broken Home

What on Earth am I supposed to do when

I can't speak out can't scream?

How am I supposed to fly over seas when

You hold me under down on the ground?

I'm ready to run, go running across the fields

Hug the air as the wind whispers, embracing me.

I don't appreciate your swinging door.

I don't admire your baccanalian religion.

You are rough, relentless pride,

The immaturity of tone and heart.

I repel thee and thy hate!

Stay away from me, you and your demonic eyes.

An angel will save me,

Has one yet, no, but strong I will be.

I cannot fold under your hold. No!

I refute this war.