I hate being at home with myself
The house feels cold
The rooms creak as I try to close my eyes
The fridge is lifeless
A place once filled with food
When mom is away I am at home with myself
She aches that she needs another break
So as I shove the second pack of ramen down my throat
And burn my fingers with the hair curler
I miss her
Home was always home with her
But alas I am with myself