Over The Mantle

What once hung over the mantle

Is currently in a state of dismantle

No longer does Marilyn look knowingly from the black and white on which she’s laid

In her stead is a different soul, whose service is paid

Bruises on my body

Bruises on my heart

I tear at my hair

I yearn to fall apart

But I have no space to call my own

No walls to fill with my decor

Nowhere to lay my rugs on a floor

Walls are empty

Like my eyes

I have so many things

That don’t have a home

I take up too much space

I struggle to grasp it with any sort of grace

I’ll curl into a corner

I lost track of my thoughts

I hide behind sunglasses

I hide behind it all

Because baby,

I don’t want you to see me fall

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