For home is still home
With cultured curtains
And bricks of beliefs
As I lie in my bed, the door locked
The opinions clog my head
Like the blocks
Of jenga, all over my thoughts
An opinionated burden
No more in the structure
They moulded me in
Eyes edgy with interrogations
Neck swirling in doubts
Unnecessary snap-backs
Uninvited courageous bouts
For home is still home
With mother in the kitchen
Father at work
Except the constant dilemmas
A mind fresh; going berserk
Limbs growing repulses
Not hair
A mouth brimming with despair
A misfitted set of rules
The clever; mistaken as the fool
The constant struggle to shout
Then to fight yourself
Into silence
For home is still home
Thorns disguised as cushions
A field of blatantly swallowed violence
Where you can be a flower
A cherry blossom or it’s child
But they become the cruel gardeners
If with the thunder, you roar wild
For home is still home
Where they say you’re welcomed
Where you can speak but not be heard
The more often, the better seldom
Bhavya Bhagtani is a 19 year old journalism student at Symbiosis Center for Media and Communication, Pune. She finds pleasure in reading books and is also an avid reader and writer of poetry. She wants to become a published author someday.
