My home...

My home means family to me. My family is a safe place to be. They help, and comfort me. When I am so mad that my face is red, they’re with me to make me feel glad. At times I help them, we’re like one big team, except a family. We share everything, and guide one and another, because we love each other. My family is great you see, along with the house and the food I eat. I am so thankful for the things I have, I wish that everyone could feel not sad. My house is the best and is a happy place, it is something I don’t need to face. It is a lovely site, my furniture is nice, but the thing I like most is my faith in my tribe. We have a bond, big and strong. But everyone does something wrong, and I love how tight bonds hold on. I thank my mom, and my dad for blessing me with a house and some family that is rad. I feel bad for the lads not as lucky as me, so I’ll help them with glee. Thanks for giving me that heart, and my house is totally a part of this kindness that I try to bring, so I thank people for that too, I also thank you. I love the things that you bring, and everything else, especially my house, the one with the roof, and two couches. The one that I love, the one in Saskatchewan. Now who am I talking to? The earth that I live in, that’s who! I really wish that everyone had a place, secure and upbeat. Poor, or rich, all the same, I’ll try to help people, therefore everyone can live in a happy way.