A House Of Horror

By Nishtha Mishra

A house of horror, it’s a tragic disorder.

With roofs that reek and floors that creek.

I sit here in silence with my older brother,

When dad does his best to protect us further.

He keeps breaking down, he keeps standing up.

He cracks and bends but it’s never enough.

He gets on his knees and then on his feet,

But he never gives up, he is never in defeat.

There’s spiders, there’s lizards,

But the most of it, there’s monsters in here.

They lure and they pull, undefeated like a bull,

Strongest in dark nights and moon, full.

I live in a house of horror,

It’s a tragic story about a mental disorder.

It’s reeks like that scent of a freak,

Untamed, so strong and fearfully undefeat.

He fought for them and then her and now us too.

But he never said he won’t or that he’s tired too.

He kept fighting back even when he felt weak,

He never gave up, he never accepted no defeat.

For longest I thought, I was scared of him,

But when times went by, I realised what the truth has been.

He always seemed terrific, but he was scared too,

He only made those faces to show us, that he is strong too.

By Nishtha Mishra