hurt, oh ache, a burning fire,
strength and weakness, desires conspired.
a room of rubble, yet the house remains,
long fear-filled sighs through maroon carpeted plains.
can you hear the wind, through the cracked wood door,
groaning as if it once wept before?
the walls hide secrets, whispers from the past,
silent cries, muffled screams, echoing at last.
old words plastered on the ceiling above,
murmured apologies, unheard cries of love.
you can feel the pain these dwellers bestowed,
walk through the basement where cold memories corrode.
walls stained with beer, tears, and bitter hate,
mumbled curses and lashes, a child's cruel fate.
her bedroom littered with food and art,
overeating failed to heal her heart.
the dream of an artist, like her father once was,
shattered and questioned, without a cause.
walk through the kitchen, where anger once reigned,
shattered glass, broken plates, laughter feigned.
condescending correction, love insincere,
parents' falsehoods, siblings' shared fear.
the house still stands in her mind every day,
burnt edges of childhood, in disarray.
it never felt like a place to love,
perhaps that's why it never felt like home above.
originally created: february 17, 2017
revised and edited: july 20, 2024
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