Our parents in the room, breaking down doors
A crash and a bang
A window falls in shambles to the floor
An arrayed pattern of a sweet divorce
2 bads don’t make a good
And you never thought they should
But here we sit in a pile of liquor
Wishing we could make this go quicker
A car door slams and echo through the crumbling home
A home of what once was laughter and giggles
Is now a scary spider webbed basement with the essence of memories

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