PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

My House


It's Really Cold

In This House That's Really Old

The Robbers Came And Stole

They Took Everything I Owned

And Now I'm Crying Cause I'm Broke

Can't Even Buy A Gram To Smoke

I'm Just Going To Sit Alone

In This House That's Really Cold

Because It's Made Out Of Real Stone 

But I'm Trying To Be Bold 

Everything Valuable I Have Sold

And Im Looking At This Mold 

It Can't Get Fixed Because I'm Broke

When I Woke Up 

Life Said "This Is What I Behold"

So I Cried While I Was Alone

Asking Why I'm Not Sitting On A Throne

And Sucking On Chicken Bones 

But It's Okay That I'm Alone 

I Think I Might Just Say 

"So Long"

And End My Life I Will Be Gone.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.