This House

April 8, 2011
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This house is silent
It holds memories somewhat violent
Time stands still as the minute hand on the broken clock swings
This house is silent; the only sounds, the birds beating wings

They beat hard as if trying to instill these memories I so desperately wish to lose
This house quietly forces me to muse

I think about all the noise this house once had
Arguments that never ceased, between mom and dad
The holes in the walls, results of being mad
It’s all over now, god I am glad

And now only the scatters of mouse
All that’s left of this silent house

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