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The Empty House
she had nothing here, in this house.
Not a shelve, not a chair, not a window.... Not a care.
She could hear air going into her lungs and then leaving...
She scratched at the floor hopelessly.
The sound brought a moment of relief.
She scratched again & again & again!
Her body burned all over.
The tips of her finger nails were coated in her own blood.
Suddenly she was on her feet punching the drywall....but the wall didn't seem to end.
There was infinite amount of wall to punch.
More blood flowed freely from The Empty House
she collapsed hitting the floor with a thud
The Empty House's walls seemed to beat like a sore head
steadily, She Screamed
And then breathed
Fast, Slow & then Nothing....
This poem is meant to be read in a soft and quiet tone
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