I'm left with my junk
Notebooks and old writings
Books yet to be opened
Guitars that need to be tuned
Missing strings or broken all the way
I'll empty the fridge
Expired milk and eggs
Mold growing in the corner
Wrappers of cheese
That were never thrown away
Take down a few frames
Down goes the Starry Night
Take everything apart
Putting it in a box
5 years of my life
Neatly stacked
Not much to show
Just junk
Bittersweet leaving
Memories resurface
She learned to walk
And talk too
She ran and played
Watched cartoons
But it's all in a box now
Safely put away
I'm finally leaving this place
When you were here
I called it home
When I was here
My prison
Although we lived in it
In the end
Everything died inside
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem