Walk inside, unpack.

I was left a house-

No windows,

no mirrors.

But still I see-

a bit of myself.

In each wall.

Built of stone and bone.

Sorrowful souls that call out.

Late at night, I can’t sleep.

Edgar Alan Poe, 12AM.

Roll over and write.

Jot down my thoughts.

They hate the sound.

They hate the feel.

The vibe- too much.

I turn happy people into sad.

Sunny days into rainy.

Wine to water.

Hate your smile.

Your pity too.

Don’t need apologies,

For something you can’t fix.

I get it, I’m weird.

I’m off, I’m twisted.

Much older, worn.

Inside this haunted house,

I was left alone…

No mirrors, no windows.

Demons can’t escape.

So here I’ll unpack…

A story for you,

A past for I.

Enjoy, welcome inside-

My haunted mind.

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