House of Secrets

January 15, 2010
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The old stairs creak
Like his voice afer a drink

The walls are gray
Like the doom that fills the day

The carpet's red
Like the blood that she sheds

The lights are dull
Like his eyes as he smashes her skull

The air is stench
Like the skins that covers the wrench

The bed is soft
Like the ground as he tops it off

If only the old house could tell
It would describe his manmade hell

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