There is nothing new about this house.
For the longest time, our history has been a twist screams, of laughter, tears.
Light fights to seep into our walls and old furniture never really leaves.
Repainted walls urge us to start new, but our DNA of old habits never change.
Shame me and cast me outside this town, but prayers seem to get lost in our sea of screeching and howling.
Our heads are twisted by nighttime; the mirror reflects different colours each hour.
We stand at a crossroad where neither is right or wrong; our paths won't split; how could we ever find our way back to who we used to once be?