September Stories
Home.
These walls have worn straight through
This house is cold without you

These halls have changed colors
They're not quite the same as when I was younger
The drawers turned out and contents on the floor
Cabinets still half stocked but the hinges broke on the door
The rooms neglected with boxes laid askew
Posters covering the walls showing peeling dried glue
I've chipped the paint off of every inch of the wall
To see if I could recognize it at all or even be able to tell what's aged it horribly
But I think when we cleaned out the rooms and abandoned the halls
We stripped the life from these walls
It depleted everything that let us call this house our own
This place is similar to what I had once known
But I don't know if I could ever call it home

These walls have worn straight through (Worn straight through)
This house is cold without you

I've referred to this house as a home for the last time
While it holds memories of my youth
There's something here that still feels empty
It's like the life was withdrawn from the walls when you left
When this family changed to only two
Like when the paint was removed but we still found nothing underneath new
But I've learned that what we call home isn't where we’re born
Or any situation we’re thrown into…
But it's where we’re able to cope with these memories we’ve long outgrew

These walls have worn straight through (Worn straight through)
This house is cold without you
I haven't slept in days (Haven’t slept in days)
I never slept there anyways