Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Very rough draft. Currently untitled

You demonized this whole frame. 
I am a home filled 
with red faced accusations. 
My walls shake with
"You don't love me". 
These windows vibrate, sometimes
fracture and all is drenched
with isolation. You ask how I am;
we always look normal in the sun. 
You made me a haunted house
in your ghost town. 
At night, I wish I was void. 

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