The House

That’s all it ever was that place

Never referred to as home

A place holding some part

Of me or a future

But a temporary stop, a stable box

A place built only for ghosts.

Forced the words past my lips

To find they stumbled like a foreign tongue

And I knew it would hold nothing

I’d hoped and said that was enough

But the life in it couldn’t light it

With enough warmth, energy

To make something for a future

Build a world I felt happy in.

Tried to make something come true

In the empty souled place

Where nobody could find peace

And I was asked one day what it’d take

To bring light into that space

First thoughts were to burn it down

Erase everything that happened there

Leave the twisted past behind.

Not there now thank my lucky stars

But I wonder as I look in the mirror

Who was I ? Who was she?

So different that she was never me

And she lived in my house

The one that never called me to it

Couldn’t get me to believe I was home.




Author: ailsacawley

I have written since I can remember, devouring the stories of Roald Dahl under the covers by torchlight. I have always loved fairy tales, myths and magic. A good deal of the things I write has some truth in it. Others, not. I’m pleased you dropped by, please feel free to leave me a comment or if you’re kind enough to share that’s fine. ☺️

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