It’s far more than that.

The way it has changed has hit me like a baseball bat.

I used to be able to walk by and recognize the tile.

And now it seems harder and harder to recall the smile.

The House.

Walking by makes my heart hurt.

Every memory being thrown around in the dirt.

It seems as if the roof became smaller.

And the walls representing the remembrance of joy are fading in color.

The House.

I wish I hadn’t taken it for what I was able to grant.

For now, it is all I want,

The House.

It was once there.

Always passing the armchair.

Once occupied with love, now despair.

The House.

The transition has been brutal.

Mixed emotions becoming incredibly crucial.

The memories are haunting me,

I was once carefree.

The House.

I miss it more than anything.

Oh, the brightness it would bring.

Exhilarating energy always filling the bedroom,

I wish today was a stop button, and I could press resume.

All I feel is gloom.

Stress, disappointment, sorrow.

Is there any happiness I can borrow?

The House.

Not so much of a house.

Still lively? I highly doubt.

It’s not as argumentative to disregard it as a home.

Leaving my empty heart to roam,

The once bright walls,

Picture lined halls.

Yes, that was the house.

It’s far more than that.

The way it has changed has hit me like a baseball bat.

I used to be able to walk by and recognize the tile.

And now it seems harder and harder to recall the smile.

The House.