In the House of Shadows

In the house of shadows where the air hung thick,

With the scent of decay, of dreams turned to ash,

I dwelled in the corners where light dared not tread,

In a place where the whispers of fear flickered quick.

The walls bore witness to battles long fought,

Each mark, each dent, a silent reminder,

Of words like daggers thrown in the night,

And the silent screams that memory sought.

Every step echoed in the silence so deep,

As if the floors could feel the weight of the pain,

The ceilings bowed low with the burden of lies,

And the windows wept for the secrets we keep.

In the kitchen, the knives glinted in the dark,

A warning, a promise of what was unsaid,

While the table, it groaned under the weight,

Of meals seasoned with bitterness, every remark.

The chairs were empty, but they held our ghosts,

Specters of anger, of love turned to stone,

We sat there, together, yet miles apart,

In the silence that shattered, where nobody boasts.

The mirrors reflected not faces but fear,

Eyes hollow and dark, void of their spark,

And in the hallways, the shadows would dance,

To the rhythm of tears that no one would hear.

The bedrooms, once sanctuaries, were cages instead,

Where pillows soaked up the cries of the night,

Where sleep was a luxury rarely afforded,

And dreams became nightmares, a thing to dread.

Each door was a barrier, a lock on our hearts,

Sealing us in with the ghosts of our sins,

And in the attic, the memories were stored,

In boxes of sorrow, torn apart.

The yard outside was overgrown with weeds,

Once a garden of hope, now a tangle of despair,

Even the birds seemed to shun this place,

As if sensing the rot beneath the seeds.

The sunlight, though bright, could not pierce the gloom,

It bent and it twisted, unable to stay,

For the shadows were thick and the night always near,

The light was a stranger, the dark was our room.

And in this house of toxic design,

I lost myself in the echoes and sighs,

My soul became heavy, my heart turned to stone,

I became part of the walls, a silent line.

I spoke in whispers, afraid of the sound,

Of my voice breaking through the thickening air,

I learned to live in the corners and cracks,

Where the shadows lay heavy, where I was bound.

But there were moments, brief and rare,

When I saw through the darkness, a glimpse of the sky,

A star, a moonbeam, a sliver of hope,

That whispered of freedom, of life without care.

I dreamed of a world beyond these walls,

Where the air was clear, where the sun always shone,

Where the shadows were chased away by the day,

And the wounds of the past were small and small.

Yet dreams were a luxury, a fleeting embrace,

For reality was the weight that anchored me here,

In this house of sorrow, of anger, and fear,

Where love was a weapon, and peace had no place.

But in the depths of my heart, a seed took root,

A seed of defiance, of strength, of change,

And I watered it daily with tears and resolve,

Until it grew strong, until it bore fruit.

One day, the walls will crumble and fall,

The shadows will flee, the silence will break,

And I will walk out, into the light,

Leaving behind the house where I lost it all.

For in the end, the darkness can’t stay,

The light will return, the shadows will flee,

And the house that held me in its toxic embrace,

Will be nothing more than dust in the day.