The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned. -Maya Angelou

This place, as it stands in all its faults and all its beauty will never be who I am. I cannot bring myself to submit to the ways of this broken system. I will not survive a corruption of my independent thought and speech. I feel lost. This is not my home. This will never be my home. I just wanna go home.

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Filed under Short Prose & Poetry

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