The Concept of Home

I live in one of the most expensive cities. Lots of people, diversity, culture. The greatest city within the the greatest country I was told.

Life took an unexpected toll and I realized I have no city, no home, a lost culture I never seen before nor can I identify.

I was just born here, given a sloppy title because I no longer had a name, just for it to double as an insult.

The illusion of human rights and and the possibility of a dream made me dislike what could have been a home.

However, too much time has passed and that is not my home either.

I linger between identities and the glue doesn't quite hold on to me.

I am homeless indeed.

And I just learned the truth of what my existence means.

Maybe I always knew.