The House

This house is rotting
and you're not leaving
I'm not seeing
the house is not a part of me.
The paint is peeling
The glass has cracked
it's stale inside these arms
but it's shelter to me
There's comfort here
inside crumbling walls
just waiting for the day
you bury me.
This house is rotting
and you're not leaving
I'm not seeing
the house is not a part of me.
Floorboards bowing
with each footstep
you don't hold me back
intent on sinking
Mildew hiding
in every crevice.
A tapestry shrouding me
in your misery
This house is rotting
and you're not leaving
I'm not seeing
the house is not a part of me.