The sound of their voices clashed in chaos,

yet again, my parents were cross.

I grazed my fork against the mashed potatoes.

And some lying cold, sat across the sides of the tables.

Our house had walls and a roof,

And screams louder than a dogs woof.

I had been here plenty times, foods left untouched,

And arguments left unpatched.

as my mind and the world around me unfolding as they detach.

I had a home, I have a home.

It isn't one with walls and a roof,

its one with memories and laughter that makes me feel whole,

It has dark brown skin and the kindest soul,

And no it doesn't have a gnome.