The Armoire

The Armoire
 that you found by the dumpster
 while visiting your sister
 it looks fine
 in the living room where
 the others you've rescued
 go to die.
 That old mirror by the bed
 without much of anything to reflect
 save for a few holes
 a crippled bedpost
 shadows that don't move.
 Cobwebs in the corner
 dead spider on the wall.
 Well I'm home, but I'm not home.
 Boxes in the basement
 that were spared from rising wagers
 discarded blood stained drum skins and sticks rest on your mother's mattress.
 Well I'm home, and somehow while I was gone, this house i'd left for dead had lingered on.
 Well I'm home with my own family in tow, and everything's the same, but different.
 Well I'm home again, the devil knows I'm born again.
 But I can't hold these walls up on my own.