Why I Don't Believe in Dictionaries
The definitions I learned were all wrong.
Why I don't believe in dictionaries:
Home
/hōm/
noun
1. A place of comfort and retreat.
2. Where one belongs.
Love
/luhv/
noun
1. A gift of affection, most often given freely.
MY HOME IS NOT A PLACE OF REFUGE IT'S A PLACE OF WAR AND THE LOVE I RECEIVE I MUST PAY FOR
WITH BRUISES AND SCRAPES AND COUNTLESS TEARS. ALL THE SECRETS, I LIVE OFF THEM, ALL THE LIES, ALL MY FEARS. MY MOTHER SHE'S DYING. MY SISTERS- THEY'RE CRYING. BUT NOBODY TRIES TO ESCAPE. FOR WE BELONG HERE, BELOW. WE DESERVE ALL THIS HURT. WE BELONG IN THE DARK, WE AREN'T WORTH MORE THAN DIRT.
Tough love he calls it, "true love lives through pain."
But I don't understand, no one takes the time to explain
that safety and sentiment aren't quite the same
that bruises like mine aren't beauty marks.
THAT EACH "I love you" IS A FRAUD AND MY HOME OF LOVE IS QUITE FLAWED. IT'S NEVER HELD HEART IT'S NEVER HELD TRUTH AND I'VE LIVED IN A PRISON SINCE THE DAYS OF MY YOUTH.
And for all the slander and sin I gave an excuse,
I guess I never learned the definition of abuse.
About the Creator
Kendra Adams
I like words. I like dogs. I like to travel. I'm into outdoor adventuring, behavior analysis, linguistics, and Netflix-binging.
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