A home. No, a roof and four miserable walls.
Where a young girl and her uncle live happily ever,
never will she hear the stories her mother once preached of magic and fairy tales, the whole world is at her tiny feet.
No, not a word of it, not a sound.
She can still hear church bells,
the haunting memories of caskets and black dresses,
hearses and empty purses drained of anything she had left her behind.
A place where opression and sadness is constantly hiding under smiles and gritted teeth.
Where pools of tears turned to rivers of gutted emotion
and splintering heart beats sink to the depths of the deepest depression and dark caves of forgotten life.
A place where sharks in the form of uncles and auntys love you like the small fish they feed on and happiness,
is the ability to fall asleep at night.