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Dec 2013
This is the first time these walls haven't been mine.
The first time since I picked out yellow paint and swirled pink-red rose buds onto it when I was four
The first time since I kicked a hole in the door, crying
The first time since I sat, looking out of that window (which is no longer quite mine) and dreaming of the places I would, could, might go

It's the first time since I snuck my first boy in here, parents gone and brother upstairs
The first time since I cried myself to sleep
It's the first time since I stared at the walls and talked myself off of the edge
The first time since I laid here, right here, but when it was mine, listening to records softly play

It's the first time since I climbed out of the window late at night and sat on the roof
The first and most rebellious thing I had done (it might still be)

This is the first time that these walls haven't felt like home.
Cara Anna
Written by
Cara Anna  New Joisey
(New Joisey)   
454
   Tina ford and Locke
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