Black HouseA Poem by Lana
A dancer that cannot dance
A rat infested trauma A bond that breaks with the power of the light A bathroom that cries A smell so fragrant and vile A kitchen for experimental cruelty A faucet that runs dry A window shut off so the dark lives on forever Oh Grandma, I could never look you in the eyes But I have seen your house And your soul is black
© 2024 Lana |
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