This is not a home. This is a box
I am trapped
You tore off my legs so I cannot stand up for myself
Sitting in this room of toys bathed in LED lights, I can no longer picture the sun's peachy gaze
Slumped against these walls, your thin whispers seep into my porcelain skin
I crack.
You cannot hear the cacophony of my cries
Tired of this dark gold dress I want to tear it off but you have stolen my arms
One thousand murmuring aches and you continue until I break.
This is a tomb.
I cannot escape plastic and cardboard.
You stare and laugh while tears seep out of glassy eyes
Hour after hour I hang on, I do not want to drown in your pit of past victims
I refuse to become a part of this marionette holocaust
But you left me with nothing
Drained of all strength, the cavity in my chest echoes with the last beats of my hollow heart
I succumb to the suffering and finally fall apart.
