Blood Isn’t Always Home

Some people wear your last name

but never earned your love.

They sit at your table

but never fed your soul.

I tried to call it loyalty

when I was really bleeding silence,

brushing off their stares,

their guilt dressed up as guidance.

You grow up thinking family means forever

but sometimes it just means

who taught you how to survive.

And who made you forget your worth

just to keep the peace alive.

I learned the hard way

that distance is protection,

not punishment.

That not everyone who shares your roots

deserves your fruit.

So I love from afar now,

quietly, carefully.

Because peace feels like home,

even if some of your family

never does.