My home isn’t perfect, it’s Earth.

Everyone says that your home is a place with joy, which is true. But it’s not always the perfect home for you. Yet it’s still a safe place, when you’re calm. When you’re at ease, feeling nothing at all, But true feelings, deep like some you’ve rarely ever had, That can be good or bad. Your home isn’t a location with random people near, Only your friends and the people you hold dear. Whether you feel the sun on your back, Or the moon creeping through the cracks, Your home won’t break if the following words are true: Your home will no matter what, always help you. Maybe in your home, you might fight, You might feel a fright, But it will be solved in the end. My home is Earth. You might ask, “Your home is a big dome? “A big planet that’s ruined? “Ruined by your species, the species that call it home?” Maybe we haven’t given it what it deserves. Maybe it shouldn’t give us what it serves. But I call it home. Because that’s what a home does. And it’s full of the people I love. It might be ruined. It might be destroyed. It might be broken. Trying to take care of it might be a bore. But I don’t care. It’s my home, a big home. One full of stairs so I can reach Unlimited floors where I can teach, Or be a pilot, soaring through the skies, Or be a doctor, saving lives. Either way, I know any day, Earth is what I’d choose. Because Earth is my home. It isn’t perfect, but it’s my home.