Blackened Fog.

Black fog fills our house to the rim

pumps through the slits in the vents

masking the light till dim

flooding each tile's dent.


Mom used to say the smoke was a ghost

that it was the cause of each brawl

that it poisoned the tongues of each host

that it blackened the tears I would bawl.


Dad used to say it was the lack of respect

and it made him want to run away

and it made him soak his children in neglect

and it made him crush the toys they would play.


Brother used to say it lived in his room

he kept the lights on which I thought was a bother

he kept screaming in his sleep as he inhaled the fume

he kept seeing the shadowed silhouette of our father.


I say it was the absence of a home

because I always felt like I wanted to leave

because I always wanted to go where the angels roam

because I always felt choked from the fog that I'd breathe.


  • psychofemale

    Love this one, the last stanza was brilliant

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