My Dream Home

No boot was hurled for spilling too much rice.
No fist was raised for breathing once, not twice.
No knuckle slammed the drawer beside my head.
No arm was pulled until the joint went red.

No shout turned every hallway into war.
No smack explained what hands are really for.
No cable cord was coiled beside the sink.
No eye was trained to study how they drink.

No door was kicked to teach me I’m to blame.
No ashtray flew for saying mother’s name.
No warning came before the glass would crash.
No belt was swung for walking in too brash.

No blood was wiped with sleeves I had to wear.
No screams were muffled just to save a chair.
No plate was held like threat before it broke.
No breath was earned by learning not to choke.

No pan was raised to see how fast I’d move.
No night was carved by silence I must prove.
No room was safe from fists that roamed like fire.
No hand came clean, no blow was ever tired.

No bruises bloomed like clocks across my back.
No hour passed without another crack.
No frame was spared. No mirror left intact.
No wall forgot the sounds it had to track.

I'll build a home where breaking things is small.
Where nothing flies except the leaves in fall.
Where feet don’t race to beat the rage inside.
Where no one wins because a child lied.

Where cups can shatter, and the world stays whole.
Where heat comes warm and doesn’t take a toll.
Where hands are hands, not lessons carved in skin.
Where silence isn’t something we begin.

Where I am not a target or a test.
Where I can sleep. Where I can breathe and rest.
A home where fear is something I outlive.
A home that doesn’t take, but dares to give.