What's the point of walking

Into a place with cozy decore

Yet it's no place like home

The sign on the matt welcomes me

But I don't feel welcomed

 

There are people with open arms

Yet I don't want to hug them

I want to push them aside

Run into my treehouse

Where I truly feel welcomed

 

They sing like birds

Yet they croak like frogs

And the more I'm here 

The more I go insane

Wishing I was elsewhere

 

My throat sickens as I try

Screaming, but muted

Crying out, but drowning

Drinking the water that sucks

My life out of my body

 

I have fond memories in picture frames,

Yearning for the frames to come to life

And turn this place into the home

I had once knew and loved

That I now resent and have to walk into