catachome

This isn't a house, nor a home, it's a catacomb, me and my cat, we sit alone, scared of the outside, outside this room, the safe haven womb, of doom and gloom. we sit and dwell, to her my secrets I tell, she listens well, me and my familar, my beautiful Mabel. I tell her some things, somethings I'm not proud, some things I tell her through thought, things I dare not say aloud. every room here has a story, every wall has a stain, the tears shed in this house, just seem to remain, I add to them most days, never they wane. I sit with my cat, so sad, so worried, in physical and mental pain. this bed is a cockpit, in my spaceship of despair, the raft of depression, taking my happiness, my confidence, my hair! we reap what we sow, this took me 30 years to know, but too late, hubris broke your brain, the greed, the drugs, the blow. now I'm married, and my haunting past, drags an extra person down low. which straw of my drama, will be my wife's last? I'm a hard man to know, a harder man to love, the support from my wife, and my cat, some things are sent from above ❤️