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Broken Home personification.

This broken home talks all too often,

the walls seem to weep, as much as it rains.

Their voices are drowned without water,

oh, where did she go, never to return.

Alone and empty, the house begins to rot,

no, don't take me away from here,

it's all my my misery has left,

for it is far too heavy to carry on my own.

The carpet is made of shattered glass and dreams,

as the ceiling screams, "I want out,

oh, please someone save me,"

the clocks are always stuck at a quarter past two,

watching and waiting for the next tragedy.

All of the rooms sit in the fray,

dismay is the color of the walls, 

that led me astray.

The holes and broken windows only cover,

so much of what's actually missing,

to say the least,

the house may burn to the ground,

but the scars will always stay.

Author's Note

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