It's Not The Same

I open my house door, I don't feel well anymore. It's more like a prison being stuck here all year. I hope one day Covid will flee away! Before all of this I would come home with a smile, and everyone in my life helped me here. When I cry my mom asks what's wrong… When I cause trouble my dad is here to stop it.. When I need hugs I will gladly take them from my brother or my cat... But it's not home, it doesn't feel the same. I had a special feeling when I came home from school. I could do what I want, but now that I'm in here all day, it doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel the same! My cozy couch has too many lumps, my TV is too boring, my lamp can't even turn on anymore! My point is, I do this every day. It makes me feel terrible in a boring way. Over and over again. I'm still glad that I have somewhere to stay and others don't and that's why you should be writing about your home in your way. You can make people happy to just be yourself and write a poem/Essay about your house.