  A home isn’t a home until ... 
well honestly I’m not sure what makes a home. 
  But I know a home is not the place you dread coming back to every night. 
   A home is not a home when you walk around the block 3-4 times before you go inside so you minimize the amount of time you have to stay awake in that home. 
   A home is not a home when you stay out 2 hours after curfew and don’t care about getting in trouble because at least ... 
 you aren’t “home”. 
   
Home is love. 
   Home is not a place to me. 
   Home is not a person. 
   Home is a figure of my imagination. 
   A place I dream about .

Home is what I hope to find .