Don't call this house a home.
Its broken and no more.
Walls stained with my tears,
Now eroding in a flood.
I'm a climate hot enough,
With red blazed emotions,
Brighter than a loving heart,
To make thriving impossible.
Paintings on the wall
Intimidate and mock.
They still smile in a place,
That makes me insane,
And the hand behind such beauty
Is not there in my routine.
The blankets are where we used to be
And they're untouched from
The last time you slept with me.
We couldn't wake up together.
I slept on the floor as it was better,
And less colder than what I felt.
I don't have a place to sleep.
The paintings mock what I feel.
I need a change and a breeze,
Such weather drains my energy.
I'd sleep under the shade of a tree-
Been a long time not breathing deep.
This house is not a home.
Its a cell torturing my soul.
