The House I Live In
I spend my days walking from room to room
Each room has a different color
The red, the blue and the yellow
The blue room is where I practice drowning
The spirits there take turns choking me
It’s where I spend most of my time
The red room has walls filled with holes
The windows are smashed out and I use blood to write on the walls
No one can hear me scream in the red room
The yellow room is where I look outside
And imagine what the sunshine feels like
In the yellow room I’m not sick
Nothing matters in the yellow room
Oh, my wife lives here too
Her room smells like flowers
The walls are soft grey and
She has a special spot for me to lay my head
She spends her days walking from room to room too
Painting the walls white for me
Silencing the spirits
Plucking me from the water I submerge my head in
I gave her shackles and she wears them as jewelry
They look beautiful on her, I think
It’s a good thing I guess, since I can’t find the key
But she doesn’t know that
She spends her days walking from room to room
The sound of her shackles lull me to sleep
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
