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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Dark · #1901539
This has nothing to do with my actual mother, I wrote it on a very sunny day.
My mother’s house is full of vices

You can feel their pull from outside the door

Eat, drink, smoke, roll the dices

Too hard to stop without wanting more



Smells and tastes of many kinds

Windows shut, room dark, candle burns

A creative place but not for intellectual minds

Because all the lessons taught no one learns



My mother’s house paints over pain

Time cannot deliver to its hazy address

It smells of sin rotting in the drain

Pure indulgence and over- excess



When you leave the sun burns

The shadow grown round your heart screams

The lessons taught no one learns

Memories that feel of dark dreams

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