The house is haunted.
I swear it by the way the tiles creaked.
Her father kept her as a hostage,
Imprisoned by her lack of knowledge.

I swore I saw their ghosts—
Cursing at each other through the walls.
I missed my reflection in the mirror;
She grinned at me from a cup at dinner

Cursed by a child’s sadness,
She is just like her mother—helpless.
What a pretty golden cage,
With a garden to tend, to bury her rage.

Look at the father's ***** claws.
He was captured for seven months.
He used to fight at the front—
Carried it back and brought it home.

Look at me, clawing at the walls,
Eavesdropping on the ghostly calls.
Look at the birdcage's paper bars,
With tiny toy soldier guards.

Look at their scribbling on the paper,
Painting mountains, lakes, and nature—
Making peace with the haunted house,
Writing clips on wings to hide inside.