(This poem is part of a series about what home means)

Have you ever
Climbed into a dumpster
Behind the Hungry Jack’s
In search
Of discarded
But still warm
They taste
Pretty damn good
When you’re hungry

Go home
The social workers say
But where the fuck
Is home?
My parent’s house?
Where I was beaten
And abused?
Being homeless
Offers a far better life
So fuck that

Humble yourself
And go home
To your parents
The church says
It wasn’t that bad
And besides
They are godly people
There is no way
That they ever
Abused you

All you need to do
Is repent
And God
And your parents
Will forgive
You are just rebellious
You don’t like rules
You don’t want to obey
The authority
In your life

This is a gorgeous
Tropical tourist city
They need us vagrants
Out of sight
We make the city
Look bad
To tourists
And tourists
Bring in

I’m offered a job
As a dancer
For dirty old men
In a fucking pub
And I want to take it
The money is good
I have the body
Hell I’m still
A virgin
I’m just perfect

That God will
Beat me
My parents are already praying
I will hit rock-bottom
I will get so desperate
Life ruined
Laying in a gutter
Until I cry out
And repent

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