The needle in my mind, the ghost in your home
Home is a place that I live in or where I am but sometimes home is untrustworthy, trustable, backstabbing, or even a helping hand. I love my home but from time to time I feel invisible like a ghost or like a needle in a haystack and can't be found.
If I am a needle in a haystack, at some point, I will be found. I love my family and I know they love me but when I see them mad, my gut wants all my insides to burst out like a volcano but in the end, it is worth seeing them smile, laugh, and generally be happy. The sad moments aren't what counts to me, it's the happy ones that mean everything.
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