This house is worn and falling apart,
Each piece for you, a la carte.

Through battles of siblings and ruckus alike;
This house took its beating through shades of white.

There's a faded stain of red on the side of the door
Where my sisters chased me with paint in attempt to start a war.

There are patches in the grass where my brother pushed me down,
A chip in the sidewalk from him throwing the pogo stick around.

The backyard's trashed, the pool is torn,
The bent basketball hoop is nothing to adorn.

There's the place we found a turtle, and the spot we let it go,
There's the canoe my dog hid under to get out of the snow.

It's nothing like I remember, because it's smaller now I see
It standing here before me creaking wood as its plea.

Because the house where I grew up is aged and stained with past.
The house where I grew up will tell you secrets if you asked.