In the house that took my baby teeth,
inside the room that saw my many tears,
my mind is unable to rest.
The teddy bear wallpaper I never wanted still
dances around the room,
constantly taunting and berating me.
Some nights it feels like a whisper,
and some nights it is a piercing scream
that tell of all the memories those walls hold.
Every time I think I have forgotten,
the house that took my baby teeth
seeps the fragmented moments back
into the fabric of my psyche and reignites
all of the lingering resentment that I keep
reigned in.
Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
In the house that took my baby teeth,
inside the room that saw my many tears,
my mind is unable to rest.
The teddy bear wallpaper I never wanted still
dances around the room,
constantly taunting and berating me.
Some nights it feels like a whisper,
and some nights it is a piercing scream
that tell of all the memories those walls hold.
Every time I think I have forgotten,
the house that took my baby teeth
seeps the fragmented moments back
into the fabric of my psyche and reignites
all of the lingering resentment that I keep
reigned in.
