My house is just that
A place for sleeping and belonging
But I don't want to go into it
Because of my issues from my trauma

My social media is for connections
But I'm terrified of the prison
Of my family's hate
and their relentless criticism

A phone call isn't just that
It's a way for my stalkers to track
My comings and goings
And to get me to come back

Seeing old friends out isn't innocent
It's scary and too intimate
Because their perceptions of my outfits
Could cause me pain, infinite

After being monitored and reported on
For my entire life
With not even my browser activity
Being private from their eyes

I don't have much trust left
I admit I'm quite a cynic
Because in what hell am I living
Where I don't have faith in any freedom