Stranger in My Own Home-Stella D’Vine

I am a stranger in my own home.

The familiar squeaks now far.

The familiar groan of the boards now dead.

The constant laughter now crying.

The inhabitants look at me through black eyes.

Their pupils dilated making them unhuman.

They hunch over ready to lurch at me.

I am a stranger in my own home.

I am a stranger in my own home.

The shape of the house strange and odd.

The objects in my room somehow contorted.

The pictures turned to pain.

The smell of it, bitter and acrid.

The walls closing in.

The life extinguishing with each exhale.

I am a stranger in my own home.