I Called it Home Anyway

The crack in the wall is not what breaks this house,

but is was the collection of dust that created this cloud.

There was a noise with the destruction, one that would scare off a mouse.

It was never quiet, it was noisy and chaotic, twisted and loud.

But the walls never crumbled, and the roof never collapsed.

I saw it, I felt it, but I still don't understand it's perception.

The house is strong then the house is weak, it stands and then falls, the house has relapsed.

But it's all in my head, this house has deception.

This house never had a roof, or walls, or people to hold inside.

This house is invisible and nude, skewed, and unviewed.

It is a place for me to run away and disappear, somewhere to hide.

This was never a house at all, just a space for my childhood memories to allude.

It has crumbled and remains broken, with nothing to do and with nothing to say,

It is so empty.

The door is boarded up and the windows can't open, with no one to talk to and with no one to love,

it is so lonely.