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House of cards Easily blown away by wind It doesn't take long To notice how fragile it became It holds memories inside Memories of the good times It has always kept the scent
I had no arms to remove you, no voice to tell them to stop. But I had a door, and I let hope in for you.   Dents line my walls, as the movers carried out my memories:
Dear previous owners of the third house on the right,Screw you.The tiles are uneven and the cabinets are crooked and now I can't go home because of a problem you let get out of ha
My roommate moved out today. They decided to leave most of their things behind. Nothing was of much importance though, Well, except for their pillow. I put that away in that closet I never use.  
You liked to look at old things like houses. It was like a system check to make sure you were alive. Then one night, while I was resting under the hazy watch of a dark sky, you made my body your house.
The Broken Hinged Door By Zoe Pierson   It’s seen the good, the battered, the blessings, and scorn.  The late nights of sneaking out, the arrivals of long gone people, the past, the present, 
My house is covered in gasoline and I'm holding a burning match just waiting to be dropped. I let it fall and watch my house as it blows up in front of me. See I had the key.
Baby I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the cold shoulder. The arctic bone chilling air resonates from my body and you just happened to walk through the danger zone. But how can I say danger zone when all I am is dangerous.
Pack up the boxes We are leaving Home.  Watching my parents cry We all feel so alone. "If you cannot pay the mortgage, You need to leave. You have a two weeks warning Before we take the keys."
In the dark you see light - I see the flames. That's not the Sun burning - This heat has no name.   The kitchen's on fire, so I run out the door. You stop in the middle
To be honest, everyone loves me Just no one seems to say thanks! At all. I find it odd that my similar Counterpart, the bed Gets the entire households praise For I do what he does and more!
To be honest, everyone loves me Just no one seems to say thanks! At all. I find it odd that my similar Counterpart, the bed Gets the entire households praise For I do what he does and more!
I A house Count down the days until she leaves.   Day 200: She stuffs me with her pie recipes Old family photos
Eyes were like a window Transparent as glass Revealing nothing but the slate concrete and ruffled grass beyond them Gripping his sky-clad hand hard, We trekked down the quiet road
A vibration from another dimension: strong, lucid, vibrant and intrusive, the ring of electronic beat, underneath your feet. Club of wonder, the simulated answer!
What if the mansion which I abide mirrors me by more than just it's contents?  
His fingertips stroked my lips softly, As he poured life onto me   I gasped at the sudden coolness and Embraced the warm sunlight Shining on my bare back   I moaned as his liquid flowed down,
We decided to build a house It was that part of time before school the leaves had started turning and the reeds in the swamp had died But there was still time so my brothers
This old house is alone Dark and damp Where there used to be sunshine Now is gloom   There are a lot of rooms Plenty of places to hide But you hear nor see any children Just the quiet
    In a quaint, little town
O, little house.
After the door shuts and the footsteps die, I surf the darkness before my eyes. The vast emptiness goes on and forever I see, Nothing more then that of the darkness, Cascading before me.
Curling ashes. Flickering and flashes. Searing heat. Thick smoke. I can't breathe. It stings my eyes. The fire roars, stretching its jaws,  Its teeth clamp down on the walls.  This house
House #1  I don’t remember House #1.  My mom told me it was an apartment in Santa Monica.  Babies are happy anywhere.  House #2
I searched for love where it truly did not exist. I searched,  And I searched, and I searched, And left the same way I came, Empty handed.  
We demand.We expect. We desire. We want to strive. We want to live. We abuse. We forget. We ignore. Many suffer for us. We tend to forget them. We need to stop. We need to help.
"What's a home?"   What do you call a place  Where you are unconditionally love? Where you feel completely safe When your life is really rough?  
Silently it sits,Waiting for its’ next victim,To enter its’ realmIts’ realm of torture,Where nothing is private,Where you never truly are alone.Where your nightmares become reality,
A stranger walking by this house white paint, powdered royal blue trim, white picket fence, an immaculate green lawn. a cherry wood door painted to match the trim, whitewashed porch
I touched the side of the peeling green house. The weather has torn and chisled it away. It used to be bright and proud. It was a strong house, but now it is dying.
Walking up to the front door, I see your eyes widen with disbelief. “This mansion is your home?” I shake my head and unlock the door, “No, this is my house,” I correct you
When I was little, about 6 or 8 my dad built me a dream house. He built me my club house he built it with his bare hands. Those days when he was in my backyard creating his masterpiece was the most time I had ever consecutively spent with him.
Here on my back, fog softening its edges and without clouds the sky is the color of cold light shining from grey silk lingerie it is smooth and flat and could fall upon my head at any instant.
  The ball bounces against the crack of the drive Two little girls laugh as they miss the backward shot. Dusk disappears like their childhood
To which are you referring   The lines that you are blurring   The hands unheld and the tears untouched   Hungry, hurting, hopeless  
I built a place of brick and stone, Somewhere to lay my head, The light shines through the southern face, A window near my bed.   This place I made shields me from all, The elements outside.
My reflectlion distorted by the cracks As I passed the entry way mirror Walking through the vacancy  My own footsteps echoed like thunder; I stop It's so quiet I could hear the dust Settling behind me
Tan marble wall paper Oversize purple leather couch French-style upholstered chair   Fish tank Radio Painting of a blue barn   Toy closet Blue bathroom Purple carpet
There was small wooden houseAt the edge of the greenIt was there, yet it wasn’tFor it never was seen Save by two little laddiesWho came by the wayAnd traipsed ‘long the pathwayOne crisp autumn day
People living in poverty need so little to be happy, A single house Is known as a palace.
A house is the most important object in an individual’s life. It provides shelter from the rain In the winter it keeps us warm. In the summer it keeps us cool. A house is the greatest blessing we could ask for.
They took it You spent years Pouring your heart Soul and sweat Into the wood and nails The blisters and measured Imperfections Until one day Your beautiful masterpiece Was complete
I watched the flames lick the ivory walls, Of my house, Of my home. Now I trod on sodden ground, Like a sponge under my feet. I pick up the pieces, Charred memories. A single tear leaks from my soul.
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