This House

I got this house from my old woman, broke

And beaten, life to her was just a joke.

I got this house-- the walls were crumbling down,

The paint was chipped and off-white turned to brown.

The faucet dripped, a never-ending sound,

Like lies she told and blows she beat me round.

I learned from her the best the way to kill

A house, a home, a love, a mind, a will.

With scorn and hate I would have made her proud,

And drowned my fears with music screaming loud.

I watched the house dissolve before my eyes,

The termites eating all I did despise.

Before we razed the house it was a joy

And happy times she had there with a boy.

But God is cruel, she said, she said, she said,

And sent that boy to war and now he's dead.  

Revenge was wrought upon the house that bore

The memories, and the scars for her I wore. 

I wore them like a badge bequeathed to me,

A medal for the person I had come to be.

I wear them still as, walking, I perceive

The ashes of the house and her I grieve.

I sit and wait for death to come for me;

At least I know the terror dies with me.