There dreary halls.

Filled with misery and pain.

These old four walls,

I look to with disdain.


So I sold my empty soul,

For an illusion to roam,

Now my heart's a black hole,

I wish I could go home.


Sometimes I go back,

And wish away my pain,

But every time I pack,

I loose my soul again.


I know I can not stay.

I always must move on.

That's the price I pay;

The debt is never gone.


I need to let the past go,

It's become my ball and chain.

Then finally I know,

I can live my life again

The End

1 comment about this poem Feed