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No Place Like Home

 

Floor is cold and bare.

The silent echoes of life

Doused by the screeching laugh of a ghost.

Walls are dusty.

They smell of urine and decadence.

I step upon a fallen shard of glass.

It cuts into my bare foot with raw pain

But I do not feel it.

The pain is nothing to the sorrow and remorse

That inhabit my heavy heart.

The oven timer blinks.

It mocks me, flashing 12:00 over and over.

The wooden dining table remains, rotting.

One leg has fallen over.

Standing pathetically on three legs, it begs to be put out of misery.

But I am powerless to do so.

I find the couch I loved two years ago.

Instead of love, hated boils inside.

Memories tear at my eyes, begging to be seen.

I close them, but vivid pictures remain.

Memories of living in this wretched unholy house.

There is no place like home.

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