I have built a house
From bits and pieces
Of my broken self
I wander through,
In a dazed stupor,
Through its bleak corridors
Listening to the rusty hinges
Choking on closed doors
Glancing at the faded pictures
Hung obstinately along its unpainted walls
From its roof
I have a view
Of distant lights burning quietly
In their pale glory
My eyes chase them
Strained to the utmost
To catch a gleam or two
In their lusterless void
Only to return to the hole inside
Widening ever so more
Swallowing up all that remains of light
But it’s my house
Built from parts of me
Infused with my soul
So I must let it enfold me
In its cold clammy hold.
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