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Not Home

I
am stuck
in this prisonous
place. You call it home;
I call it torture. This house
has no bars, but if
I leave, you  would 
hurt me. There's no
hiding from you, my
prison masters. But
this  museum,  this
house,  this  place,
this  prison,  is  not                                my home.

This is supposed to look like half of a house. It looks different when I edit it. I hate living with my yuppie parents. How about you?

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