Home Sweet Home. Poem by Shannon Nicole

A trunk covered in a massive amount of dust,
Victorian, gothic lining, a forest green.
A skeleton key like lock bolted to the trunk,
A faded silver shovel leaning in the corner across from it.
A music box, a pale pink,
It's shining rim along the edges.
It plays a soft lullaby,
Only to be thrown across a darkened room.
An antique mirror having the reflection of a girl,
This girl has a white eye and a broken face.
A blood stain on the wall to the right,
A gash along the left side of her left leg.
A pretty, little doll lying against a rocking chair,
Eyes unblinking, Lips unmoving.
A symbolized death of an innocent child,
Locked away in a box with her favourite things.

The look that raced passed her eyes,
Peering through the slightly cracked mirror,
A face is smiling from behind.
He's standing close but oh so far,
So she's glaring into the eyes of a stranger whom she cannot see.
Her heart cold and shredded,
He speaks as if she is alive and well.

A shadowed girl in a disrupted family,
A shattered photograph, burnt at the edges.
With a smiling face and cleared eyes,
She holds the hand of a beautiful woman.
The corners now ashes and breaking off,
Her eyes fill with unshed tears.
Clouded eyes, broken faces, a faded past,
She was her future no longer.

A girl with a heart oh so fragile,
Broken to millions of pieces by a simple burn,
That only a photograph had caused.
Ashes breaking off,
Her eyes now blackening,
She's in a far off place.

A bright white cloud,
Showing a beautiful woman with pale hands,
Her skin smooth, a smile across her lips, a blush fade across her cheeks.
A shadowed child in a faded place,
A child faced death,
The forest green, gothic trunk placed into a corner, unmoved,
A body inside, blood dried in the veins, bruises scattered.
A child never found in an abandoned home,
Home sweet home.