where is the place i walked when i was young?
a 14 mile drive over the bridge and run
I am not welcome here anymore
where my father lay his head
is where i lay as a child with blanket well fed

where is the place i found my friends
ran the paths and hid my things
the lady across the street sick and staring
the man that lost his mind and is no longer there

the older guy down the street with ripped up jeans
a bad hair cut and and love from a pretty girl
i miss the games in the yard til' dark and no one cared

the long walk to the bus because i had not two parents to care
to shape me and mold me to bring me somewhere
the cold wake up calls by my father so stern
to wake and go to school to draw and not learn

where is my home where my anger was born
the place they fight me in my fears of a misty dawn
how i miss this place, where i miss my dad
he lays in my room now silent and sad

where is my home

Hi Flightofbees, that is a really touching poem.
Thanks

appreciate it