Home is where I am a minority, a place where I do not fit, where I am the round peg to their square hole. They openly stare with manga eyes, showering me with abashment for the way I dress, the way I talk and act. I wish for stares, but different ones. My mind wants to command them to worship me, but they see only an ugly duckling.
I hide behind the perpetual scowl, with eyes dead and shark teeth ready to strike at a moments notice. I am dead, indifferent to their scorn and ridicule, I am the resting bitch face extraordinaire.