Well so I say............

It's a real fixer-upper, isn't it?
This empty space where my soul lived
With termites and cobwebs and water damage
From all the tears I couldn't cry.
It used to be a good place
But then the neighborhood got bad.
Death moved in when I was seven
And his cousins Grief and Depression followed right along.
Not long after came Obesity,
That fat old uncle who won't go away.
(He enjoys home cooking the best,
But he'll eat anything.)
Alcoholism rolled into my life a year later
Driving a shit-green and rust Ford pickup.
Terror and his roommate Paranoia came next
And we hung out a lot for the next several years.
I met Desperation for the first time when I was fourteen.
She cut my wrist
(just a tiny mark)
And smiled at me with those sharp, pearly teeth.
Crimson-haired Loneliness and her lover Silence
Broke one of the beds one night.
Rage moved into the attic and nailed the door shut.
(We only hear him when he stops shouting.)
Self-Esteem got locked in the closet -
Did we ever let him out?
And all the rooms got trashed because of the drunken fights.
Suicide paid a brief visit,
Threw me a surprise party with Desperation's help,
And seduced beautiful Silence before he left.
Loneliness reached out to Desperation in search of something
That neither could ever hope to find...

Now most have moved out -
Death leaves me pretty much alone
Although he sometimes visits my family.
Grief left a long time ago,
But Depression is a frequent house guest.
Obesity still lives here, but I just don't pay attention anymore.
Alcoholism got a Suburban and lives on the other side of town.
Terror and Paranoia stay with him most of the time
But visit me on occasion, just to let me know that they still care.
Desperation and I have grown apart over the years,
Although we still chat now and again.
Loneliness is a frequent companion,
But Silence tries to avoid my company
(I don't think she likes me anymore).
Rage is taking his medication
And he's trying not to punch holes in the walls anymore.
Self-Esteem actually poked his head out of the closet recently.
Suicide writes threatening letters,
Never actually stopping by.
And the big news is that
My soul might actually move back in someday.
It's a real fixer-upper, isn't it?

I'm going to have to change that.