A House Is Not A Home

Broken bottles cut and hot ashes burn
The already empty souls and numb hearts
Tired faces leave and never return
Their eyes drained of tears, crying from the start
 
The music stops; the party is finished
The house is quiet as it waits in fear
For the last piece of night to diminish
The danger comes when the sky seems most clear
 
Night brings blankets of darkness and of noise
Safety so loud it blocks the sounds of love
The host unaware of all it destroys
Lost is all faith that something lies above
 
Each room full of lies, shame, and pain unknown
A house stripped of any semblance of home 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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