This Old House

Bowing above the fire, wood turns to ash.

This old house claims nothing but memories.

The walls cave in as my lungs collapse.

Soon, I will be nothing more than the fog that passes

throughout the night.

Your dreams contain only brief images of me

you will not remember in the morning.

My mind slips away, my soul has vanished.

Contrary to belief, I am not bulletproof.

Your cruel intentions shine now,

where as before I was blinded by the moon itself.

Lie me down tonight with your bitter soul

and dispose of me in the morning.

Tonight, I get high to avoid any form of conversation with you.

Tonight, you get high to avoid any form of conversation with me.

Lie me down tonight with your bitter soul

and dispose of me in the morning.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “This Old House

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s