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.
Comments about Home Sweet Home. by Shannon Nicole
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe