I sit here in this over-cluttered house

Looking at each wall, donned in a blood-stained blouse

All of my claw-imprinted artifacts 

Laying about in piles of packs

Like a museum that only I attend 

WIth broken bones that do not bend 

It could have been years 

Since I last saw any of my dears 

It is hard to remember now 

Stuck on my permanently pinched brow 

The days I left behind

My face heavily lined 

A lighter I can’t let go of 

Stuck in the color of a dove

It burns no more 

Like the legs of a retired whore 

I weep and plead

For God to set me free 

But no one hears me

Trapped in this house with no windows to flee

The ghost of laughter

It haunts me hereafter 

Every day the exact same 

Over and over again, wallowing in empty pain

Trapped by the heavy burden

With no one to sing a sermon 

All of my artifacts cry and bleed

They beg me to be set free 

The old lighter burns once more 

As I drop it on the overcrowded floor