House

A poetic interpretation of dysphoria. Or whatever other meaning you find in the poem... idk, I'm not in charge of art.

Its f*****g dark inside this house

The sun’s gone and the powers out

I light a candle

And watch the wax melt away

Melt like my skin

Slowly sloughing off

Melting sinew and flesh

Until nothing is left

Except the barren broken bones

That hold up this body i call a home

I’ve tried to decorate these walls

Paint over the cracks

Cover up the plaster running up and down my back

But each layer of paint peels

Away and reveals

The flaws and the bumps and the scars i've concealed

The only way out is to tear it all down

Take a match and light this candle

And burn my house to the ground

And in the ashes of the arson I can finally begin

The dedication of destruction can erase all my sin

In the wake of the waste there’s a hole to be filled

Take the pieces of my bones so i can finally rebuild

I’ll construct brand new walls, and replace all the doors

They’ll be flat and strong and smooth

unlike the pale misshapen hovel I lived in before

With thick dark carpeting

To hide the secrets underneath the floor

No one has to see my tell tale heart

Beating beneath the charred oak boards

Because even if I am newly renovated

Every surface of my memories slated

With house reborn and breath that’s bated

With anticipation for the life I’ve waited

To live, not the one I’ve always hated

But when the new paint dries it’s already faded

It doesn’t matter if the facade’s refurbished

The bones beneath with remain the same

The futile face of fantasy

Hiding behind the naivety of a new name

But if roses will always smell just as sweet

Then my bleeding heart will continue to beat

The same sorry path it has always known

And live in the house in which it was grown.

Author's Note

Not really looking for criticism, I write my poetry for myself.