A bed, table and chair does not make a home but can be reminders of despair.
Is it better to have what others would call home or not, a reality that no one wants to live.
Curtains pulled back, the outside is reality TV, setup to see others reality, home they call it. Real or not, it looks like happiness through the window pane of my fantasy.
Love drifts in and out, running about, individuals that encapsulate family.
I watch, wanting to be them, wanting to leave what I know.
In my own world, I search for members of my tribe, thicker than blood but none are visible.
Created by Exposed Loving, 2016