The House

Poem about the house I used to live in...just so you know I have a thing with floorboards LOL

 The House.

There's no one here
No one's hand that could be familiar
No one's voice that could be a memory
Only cold and blood soaked floorboards
Where I buried my own soul in the dust
Yellow walls with my nightmares encased in them.
Where my childhood once saw its beginning cord.
Why do they wish to silence me.
Why would they care if I could call their names
And they would have to obey
There's so much blood here
It soaks my feet and I scream
I'm so tired of it
The way the windows turn black and the shadows return again
They take my spirit and freeze me to the marrow
The scars on my wrists
They long to touch
To feel and thrive on the pain that lays encrusted there
Even now I can still feel the knife
Cold against my skin
Thirsty beyond any power I have to quench it
Like a tongue it tasted my flesh and quickly found the bone
So sweetly decorated my attempts to silence  my own
A longing for a suicide deeper then the sin
With its tears and desperate cries to be completed
I saw myself holding my wounds to the moon
She only wept on them and asked so many whys
I couldn't give them answers 

As I wept on her own marks of the past
I'm tired
More tired then anyone near by can grasp
I'm lost
Further down the rabbit hole
Then anyone can free me from
Here I'll bleed in my own Oubliette.
To be alone in my selfishness
And forget.

Author's Note

Hope you like it. Its one of my favs I think. Its very old.