My house on somedays is a breath of fresh air filling my lungs reminding me of how blessed I am my house on somedays is an art studio filled with canvases with our memories beautifully painted on them my house on somedays is like a beautiful decoration for the holidays hung around like the surround sound of human laughter and conversation but my house on other days is silence and you see nothing but the rise and the fall of my chest as I sit here writing this poem my house on somedays can be lonely and dark no my house on somedays is like a boa constrictor of my worse thoughts slithering its way around my body squeezing me until I have nothing left to give my house on somedays is me sitting in my room watching as the four walls close in on me laughing and teasing as if they knew I were clastraphobic my house on somedays is the 30 walls thats crumble around me everytime my heart breaks a little more somedays my house is a river baptizing me in my filth as I drown in my bath and my bath becomes the sea and im the reef that rest at the bottom where it feels safe enough to breath sometimes I forget to breath *breath my house on somedays is cemetary filled with old memories meant to be forgoteen that I swore that id never dig up but others dig them up for me smash it in my face like birthday cake but I swear this is no celebration cause my house on somedays is a bad dream and I scream out to anyone that would listen but there are only four walls in my room that I used to hang the skeltons that my closet could not hold.