My body is my childhood home,
Where I grew and where I bloomed.
Yet, as I got older I destroyed
My childhood home.
I took an axe to it's walls and
Carved my distaste into it's wood.
I stopped feeding the fire in the fireplace
and let my childhood home turn cold.
I watched as the embers burnt out and
The roses on the kitchen table wilted.
The sun turned to dust, yet the moon
Never woke.
All alone I was, in the remains of
My childhood home.
Afraid and empty,
I was craving answers for questions
That no one asked.
