When people say, “where do you feel the most safe?” People usually say home.
Home, a silky fort made of comfort.
A resting place made of many materials.
A giant storage room made full of our prized possessions.
We are lucky to have such things as home.
But some people are not as well and lucky.
Some are forced to make shelter with sticks and stones.
Scavenge rubbish bins for rotten leftovers or the rare full meal.
And this poem is dedicated to them,
to help them,
to make them feel the thing they never had from the start,