Home Sweet Home Poem by Malory Joyce

The walls are cold,
behind them were whispers.
Secrets about secrets,
they must not know
that a secret is no longer
a secret if told.

daunted to turn corners
of the house.
passing the living room
with no life.
afraid to run into a line
of dolorous glaring.

Silence ran
loudly throughout the house.
no one could speak
to each other.
Their mouths must have been
full of such bitterness.

I open the door,
and enter a broken home
where I turn the corners
of cold walls
that they whisper behind,
and ponder to myself,
this is my
home sweet home.