My House

My House

 

My house,

strong and made

of brick,

Muscled

while standing

thick.

Rodent

chewed wires,

Breakdowns

that never tire.

 

My house,

halfway full

of people,

perfect

strangers,

Familiar

by blood,

wander lost.

Others

blame their

minds’ flaws,

And breakdowns

never tire.

 

My house,

crooked

though it

may be,

It’s still

my house,

and I will

let it be,

Or I will

set free.

Cleanse it

with fire

and flame.

Or continue

this game,

Letting

it fester

and breathe.

M.L.Wright

 

 

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