The
wind shudders and sighs
throughout
the old, barren house.
Its
rusty walls are grim.
I
found the darkness
reverberates
throughout the walls,
the
anger is mass, like the sea.
The
loneliness fills the a void
in
my mind.
I
am gone, and I am here.
I
am no one and everyone.
I
am a lone shoe on the stair
that
is old and wanting wear.
I
do not try to be like anyone else.
I
do not try to be a second guest
in
someone else's home.
I
move around without a sound.
But
the old man I love is a grouch,
he
tried to bite and scratch and crawl
his
way out of bed,
blankets
clawing at his old hands.
He
thought of death and I was still.
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