This house is so empty,
It feels like a dream,
Every member has left me--
My loneliness falls out in a stream.
There were false confessions
From our pasts, way before
We began our obsessions
That brought ruin to our shore.
There is a mattress on the floor,
It was left behind as well,
It blocks my exit by the door
And keeps me in this Hell.
Cobwebs fill my memories;
The spiders are absent--
There are shadows of my enemies
As I spiral in my descent.
The windows are painted gray;
The tiles are faded,
There are holes in the couch on which the dad used to lay;
The mirrors are rusted, their image shaded.
I adore the chair in the middle of the room,
It has not left me yet,
It fights against the house's gloom;
This family, it never met.
The music of nothingness plays rhythmically,
Leaving no doubt in my mind,
The shadows change radically
In all the corners I can find.
This house is empty, there's not much to say,
I was left here as a memory
That has a cost that is too expensive to pay.
Why they left is part of my history--
I am Waiting, praying that the next
Family will stay.