How dare they
rip up the carpet we stained
with our tears,
and our blood,
and our cigarette butts.
How dare they paint over
the black marks upon the walls
our outcries of angst,
our declarations of rebellion,
our memories.
How dare they reshoot
the faded film in our minds
and attempt to sell the foundation
of us
...to someone...
with tears to shed
tobacco to burn
outcries and declarations
and home movies to make...
The house will get a new life,
but forever, once, it was mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment